Star Wars: Rebels: Truth in Legends
by MandoCommander
Summary: The sixth installment in my ongoing series. With his master missing and the war with the Empire having taken dire turns, Ezra searches for answers to questions both new and old. Meanwhile, enemies both familiar and not so familiar continue their ploys unabated. Ezra, Sabine, and the rest of the Rebellion have passed the point of no return.
1. Chapter 1: A Matter of Honor

Star Wars: Rebels: Truth in Legends

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: Welcome back to all my faithful readers, and to those of you joining us for the first time, welcome! Though, for the latter I highly recommend you read the first five stories in this series, first.**

 **It took some time with plenty of unexpected delays, but at long last this latest installment has begun. As before, familiar favorites will return and new faces will debut, Sabezra will be front and center, the Expanded Universe or Legends will be prominent, and this time, in a search for the truth set to the backdrop of the Galactic Civil War, dark secrets with resounding implications for the entire saga will be revealed.**

 **Enjoy!**

Chapter 1: A Matter of Honor

It was an uncertain time for the Alliance to Restore the Republic, aka the Rebellion. In the months following their rout from their base on Hoth and the crucial campaign on Ryloth, the galaxy's would-be liberators found themselves kept on the defensive by the armed forces of the Galactic Empire, the latter now emboldened by their recent victories and determined to stamp out the flames of rebellion. The Alliance's allies, the Mandalorian Clans and the Separatist Remnant had been fought to a stalemate, leaving their own futures uncertain as well. Compounding matters for the Rebels was the loss of two crucial officers of theirs, Captain Han Solo and Jedi Commander Kanan Jarrus, the former of whom was imprisoned in carbonite and at the mercy of the Hutt Cartel, and the latter MIA and presumed deceased.

Few in the Rebellion were hit as hard by this turn of events than those closest to Jarrus, namely his wife General Hera Syndulla and his former apprentice, Jedi Knight Ezra Bridger, the latter of whom refuses to give up hope and accept his mentor and father figure is in fact dead despite all evidence to the contrary. Without the approval of his superior officers, or knowledge of anyone other than himself and a certain ancient assassin droid he brought with him, the former street orphan from Lothal has set up a rendezvous with a contact who may have some information relevant in his desperate yet determined search.

Port Outland Station had stood within the reaches of deep space inside the Koradian Sector of the Outer Rim for decades. The seedy interstellar shadowport was long a haven for unsavory and mysterious characters near and far, coming from across the Galaxy to either get lost or find someone who had already gotten lost. It was into this mishmash of lawless debauchery that Ezra Bridger had come, taking his ship the _Starbird_ and his faithful, sometimes overzealous mechanized ally HK-47 along with him.

"Observation: This facility clearly has an abundance of meatbags with dangerous and hostile intentions, master. Analysis: I think we will enjoy ourselves quite well here. I know I will," the aforementioned ancient assassin droid remarked enthusiastically as he walked along beside his master.

"Of course _you_ will," said master and native of Lothal retorted with a roll of his eyes, maintaining his stride as they continued to their destination.

After securing clearance for a landing bay in the outer docking ring of the station, thankfully and predictably without too many questions asked, the duo had made their way over to the entertainment district closer to the central hub. Their destination, _The Drunken Gundark_ , just one of the plethora of seedy dive bars and cantinas on the station, run down, dimly lit, and entrance illuminated only by a simple yet distinctive neon sign. Along the way they passed a myriad of Port Outland Station's typical clientele, Human and Alien underworld patrons of most every kind. Smugglers, pirates, mercenaries, gangsters, and so on. A few labor, protocol, and astromech droids also passed, all of them either being part of the station's own personnel, couriers for some black market venture, or just wayward wanderers with nowhere else to be.

"This is the place, HK," Ezra announced in a hushed tone once the sign came into view around the corner. "Our contact was very specific; I'm to meet them alone. You stand watch out here and make sure nobody interferes with this meeting. It took months to get this lead and I doubt we'll get another anytime soon, so be vigilant."

"Statement: Of course, master. I obey and await your return. Query: Who exactly are you expecting to interfere with your present task?"

"I don't know, luck favors the prepared," the Jedi Knight replied with a shrug as he turned to enter the drinking establishment.

"Agreement: I concur, master. I knew there was a reason I follow you around."

Upon entering the seedy dive bar, Ezra causally stepped to the side to avoid looking too conspicuous, and took a moment to look around. The interior of the establishment was dimly lit, the air filled with the scent of booze and t'bac smoke. It also wasn't quiet by any means. The two most prominent sounds were those of a jukebox currently set on a station playing the latest hits from Hutt Space, and the rabble of the numerous patrons scattered about at the bar, tables, and booths along the far walls at either side. It wasn't long before Ezra spotted his contact, seated at a booth in the back right corner to the left of the bar. Carefully navigating his way through the patrons, many of whom were too drunk to even notice him, the Jedi Knight made his way over to the Kaleesh warrior expecting him, who quickly picked up on his approach and regarded him with a nod.

 _"_ _Sharp senses, this one_ ," Ezra noted mentally as he closed the distance, standing over the alien mercenary, who silently gestured for him to take a seat.

"Ezra Bridger, I presume?" the Kaleesh inquired in a deep, gruff voice as the Jedi in question settled into the opposite side of the booth.

"The one and only," Ezra answered cheekily, but his self-amused expression faded when the warrior's own remained stoic and impassive. At least, as far as the Rebel could tell; like most of his kin, this Kaleesh wore a skull mask with intricate war paint over his face. The mask and his head were topped with the traditional head wraps of his people, and similar trappings adorned his hands and feet. The rest of him was encased in a gunmetal grey suit of durasteel body armor, decorated heavily with more war paint, and the pauldrons and kneeplates covered in an additional layer of what was clearly bone armor. A traditional Kaleesh vibrosword and an upgraded Baktoid Industries Type 1.5 blaster rifle were both sheathed and holstered on his back.

He was Qashi Kon Sheelal, one of the few Kaleesh to journey off his homeworld following the Clone Wars. Distrustful of outsiders ever since the Yamari invasion and the Republic occupation in the years leading up to the galaxy-wide conflict, these days the Kaleesh warrior clans chose to mostly keep to themselves. Ezra himself didn't have the full story, but from what he understood, the Jedi were heavily involved in the Republic's occupation of Kalee, and he was duly warned by Leia who heard the stories herself from her late adoptive father years prior: Kaleesh warriors typically don't forget and forgive easily.

 _"_ _Still, he's a mercenary who's accepted jobs with the Rebellion for a while now. Surely he knows by now the Rebellion has welcomed Jedi into its ranks. That should count for something, right?"_ Ezra rationalized, really hoping to avoid being judged by the actions of the Jedi who came before him. The memories of his weeks on Dxun with the Mandalorians, and the fact they weren't exactly welcoming at first, were still fresh in his memory.

"Should we order some drinks, or just get down to business?" Ezra asked casually, trying to break the ice. Qashi simply shook his head.

"I don't intend to linger here long, and neither should you. If any of these scum knew who you are, they'd be piling on you to collect the price the Imperials put on your head in an instant," the warrior kept his voice down as to avoid drawing undue attention with his words. Ezra replied in a like manner.

"While I certainly appreciate your discretion, why aren't you interested in collecting the bounty yourself? You were in the Bounty Hunter's Guild for a time, according to what the Rebellion has on you at any rate."

"So you did your homework on me," Qashi remarked, pausing before continuing. It wasn't a question. "I'm the one who reached out to you as I recall. It would go against the code of my people to invite you here in good faith only to go back on my word once you arrived. And besides, I swore off Imperial contracts when I chose this life years ago."

Ezra arched a brow at that last sentence.

"You're saying you'd never work for the Empire, no matter how much they agreed to pay you?"

"Yep," Qashi answered instantly, "same with the Hutts, Black Sun, the Zann Consortium, and anyone else who lives without honor. I learned a long time ago that to serve those who lack honor is to sacrifice your own, and some things are more important than money. Your Rebel Alliance may not offer the most lucrative contracts, but it's enough to put fuel in my ship and food in my stomach, and that's enough for me."

"And the fact that I'm a Jedi doesn't change that?" Ezra inquired softly, wary to avoid anyone else hearing.

"I have no particular love for your kind or your order, or what's left of it anyway, but the Jedi who brought misery, suffering, and death to my family and my people are all dead now. Their sins were great, but theirs alone. I prefer to judge an individual by their own actions, and you've done nothing to warrant my ire, yet."

"If that's your justification for agreeing to meet with me, I'll take it," the Jedi Knight affirmed earnestly. "Now, to business, you said you had information regarding my master?" Ezra leaned forward with one elbow on the table, eager to get to the heart of the matter at hand.

"I never said it was your master," Qashi quickly corrected, leaning back in his seat, his four-fingered hands briefly coming into view as he crossed his arms in the process. "I said I was recently in contact with the same cult involved in the recent fiasco on Ryloth that seemingly killed Commmander Jarrus."

Ezra quirked another brow.

"Seemingly...?"

"I'll level with you, Jedi," Qashi huffed, silently hoping the Jedi reputation of containing their emotions wasn't lost on this one. "What I have for you is only secondhand information."

"WHAT?!" The former street orphan from Lothal very nearly jumped out of his seat, his eyes wide with indignation and his tone sharp with outrage. The Kaleesh warrior quickly raised one of his fingers to make a quieting gesture in front of the lower half of his mask which covered his lips. Ezra spared a brief glance around. His outburst had attracted more than a couple pairs of eyes and ears in their direction. Settling back down and calming his nerves, the Jedi Knight waited a couple minutes for everyone to return to their business, Qashi paying both them and him no heed for the duration. Finally, once he was certain they were safe enough, the veteran mercenary elaborated:

"Unlike the Empire or the Hutts, the Great Dragon Society doesn't exactly advertise what they're all about all over the galaxy. I know they've done some good work on downtrodden worlds in the Mid and Outer Rims, and they seemed honorable enough. So, I took a few jobs for them awhile back, mostly typical mercenary work like armed enforcement or escort duty. The last contract I signed on to was to transport some old Jedi artifacts smuggled off Coruscant in a carbonite slab on my ship, from one pickup point in deep space within the Core Worlds, to a drop-off point also in deep space out on the Far Rim," the Kaleesh warrior paused for a moment, gauging Ezra's reaction before continuing. Thankfully the gligkort was keeping his mouth shut this time. "One of the cultists at the drop off mentioned that the Society had recently dealt with a Jedi on Ryloth. Apparently there was a lightsaber duel involving the cult leader and everythifng."

"You're sure it was a lightsaber duel this person was describing?" Ezra inquired further, and Qashi merely rolled his eyes before affirming.

"Yes, I'm sure. I know those things are hard to mistake once you've seen the real deal. I've fought more than one Jedi before," he admitted, straightforward.

"Okay…" Ezra accepted the answer without prying on it further, "But, do you have any more specifics? Like, coordinates for those meeting locations in deep space?"

"Of course, and I've already transmitted them to your ship, but I doubt they will do you any good."

"Why not?"

"Because the Society never uses the same sets of rendezvous coordinates twice."

A moment of silence passed, the Kaleesh warrior not needing the Force to sense this Jedi sitting across from him was losing his patience. He didn't really care.

"So what you're telling me is, you may or may not have seen my master, and I have no means to find out for myself?" Ezra narrowed his eyes, desperation and exasperation seeping onto his face.

"I didn't say that, either," Qashi corrected again, "While I dont make a habit of asking my employers too many questions, I do know the Society primarily operates out of Nar Shaddaa. One of their followers mentioned to me a place there called the Strell House. Apparently it's a particular location of some significance to the Society."

"One single house on a city-moon isn't exactly narrowing things down, but it's a start. Do you have any more information on this building other than that?" A faint glimmer of hope seemed to return to the young Jedi's eyes, the Kaleesh noted.

"I could only guess. I've never spent longer on the surface of the so-called Smuggler's Moon than I need to."

"Well, I know some of my compatriots in the Rebellion lived on Nar Shaddaa before signing up. Perhaps they would have more information," Ezra deduced, chin lowered against his thumb and index finger as he pondered.

"There you go. Now, if there's nothing else you have to ask, I think this little meeting is concluded. I'll be on my way," Qashi moved to stand up, but Ezra did have a couple more questions.

"Wait, what would these cultists want with old Jedi artifacts, anyway?"

"You're the Jedi, here, you tell me," Qashi shrugged as he stood. "The Society's higher ups can use the Force, that much you and I both know by now. Besides, being into a bunch of ancient mystical stuff seems to be standard for most cults."

 _"'Ancient mystical stuff...', that's definitely one way to put it,"_ Ezra couldnt help but muse in his mind. He was briefly reminded of the Force visions he'd been having over the last few months. It seemed they were increasing in frequency more and more as time went on. He was seeing up to two or three a week in his sleep these days. Most featured the same mysterious man from before, but some others were about Revan, the ancient Jedi Mand'alor suggested he shared some connection too. Ezra had taken it upon himself to do more research on the Prodigal Knight, and the prospect admittedly unnerved him, to say the least. The young Jedi quickly decided to move onto his final question.

"Also, what do I owe you for this information?"

"Nothing," was the Kaleesh warrior's immediate answer, "I told you, this is a matter of honor. I came here because I didn't feel right keeping this to myself, not to make a profit. Besides, I'm pretty sure I can find at least one local here who is isn't a complete scumsucker and needs a job done."

"I see. Well, thank you then," Ezra was briefly at a loss for words. He still felt relatively uneasy around the warrior, but found it more difficult to outright distrust him as well. Qashi inquired one last curiosity of his own, as the thought came to him.

"You know, I read up on what the Rebels have on you as well, Jedi. Your life-mate learned the ways of the blade from your master as well, as I recall. I was at least partially expecting to meet both of you here. Did she not travel with you?"

The mere mention of Sabine Wren, his tough, beautiful, kind, free-spirited wife whom he respected and loved deeply, caused Ezra's face to briefly heat up.

 _"_ _Damnit, after all this time, just hearing her name does this do me,"_ Ezra cursed himself for his involuntary reaction, his heart aflutter. Qashi picked up on this, but to the young Jedi's relief, chose to ignore it. Then he remembered he had a question to answer.

"Um… no, no she didn't. She doesn't even know I'm out here, to be honest."

Now it was Kaleesh's turn to quirk a brow, under his mask.

"Why not? She's a Mandalorian, isn't she? Surely you're not concerned she can't handle herself out here and wherever your journey takes you next."

"It's not that. It's just, this is something I have to do for myself. It wouldn't be fair to drag her into my troubles. It's because I love her that I had to leave her behind this time, you know what I mean?" If Ezra was hoping for reassurance for this mindset, he did so in vain.

"Oh, I know what you mean. I also know that because _she_ loves _you_ , she's going to find you and kick your ass. Just letting you know right now."

"Whatever," Ezra dismissed the notion as they both stood to leave, but Qashi left him with one important piece of advice.

"Women find out everything, Jedi. Regardless, I wish you well in your search."

"Safe journeys to you as well," the Jedi Knight bowed in a respectful farewell, and the Kaleesh warrior returned the gesture. At that moment, the Ishi Tib bartender called out over the music and noise of the patrons.

"Hey, if that droid out front belongs to anyone here, I suggest you get out front and deal with it right now!"

"Uh-oh," Ezra didn't need to be told twice.

The scene outside the entrance to _The Drunken Gundark_ was that of a one-sided slaughter. At the rate he was firing, HK-47 appeared to be on the verge of overheating his blaster rifle. Of course, the ancient assassin droid had calculated how many ammo clips he could spend in rapid succession while maximizing the efficiency of every kill. By the time his Jedi compatriot and the Kaleesh warrior arrived outside, he had already cut down the last organic in his sights as they tried desperately to scramble away.

"HK, what the kark are you doing?!" Ezra demanded, his face a mixture of panic, horror, and indignation.

"So Jedi _do_ know how to swear. Heh," was Qashi's bemused remark. Ezra merely glared at him in response, and he shrugged it off. A plethora of corpses, at least over a couple dozen, were strewn about the walkway all around them, mainly Klatooinian, Nikto, and Weequay. Many of the bodies still had blasters and vibroknives clutched tightly in their death grips.

"Answer me, droid! I expect an answer for this senseless barbarity!" the Rebel hero was adamant.

"Retort: That hurts, master. This is my life you are talking about!" HK responded with his own indignation. The compassion of certain organics never failed to irritate and confound him. Ezra looked about ready to fling the mechanized killer into a building via the Force. Qashi decided to interject, having silently analyzed the collection of dead around them.

"I wouldn't be too upset were I you, Jedi. I recognize these scum. Gangsters, all of them. This particularly nasty group has been waging a street war with their rivals for months, and by the look of things, their numbers have just been thinned enough to leave any survivors without any hope to keep up the fight. If anything, your droid here has made the station a very slightly better place."

"Agreement: See, master? Your bone-faced associate gets it."

"We'll discuss this later," Ezra warned before shifting his gaze back to Qashi. "You know as well as I that any reprieve people here get from this is temporary. The rival gang will take over and pick up right where they left off."

"Perhaps," the veteran mercenary conceded, "But one gang running the show is better than two or more killing each another and anyone else in the wrong place at the wrong time. Criminals with authority tend to keep those without in line, to some degree anyway."

"Suggestion: I would be happy to continue slaughtering every last malcontent meatbag aboard this station until none are left alive. Perhaps I could jettison their bodies out of the airlocks as a warning to new arrivals, before killing those new arrivals anyway."

"I'm gonna go with 'no,'" Ezra drolled out, clearly not amused. Qashi turned to leave, offering his Rebel allies one last piece of advice.

"Well as delightful as this has been, I'm heading out before station authority shows up. Take my word for it, they're only _slightly_ better than the gangs, and they have greater numbers."

Once again, Ezra didn't need to be told twice. He quickly departed with his faithful and overzealous droid in tow.

* * *

Across the stars on "The Smuggler's Moon" of Evocar, Nar Shaddaa, deep within the hidden base behind Meridian Hall in the old industrial sector, Antiochus Veran, leader of the Great Dragon Society, couldn't help by try and stifle a shudder that ran through him as he glanced at the door leading to the meeting room on his right as he walked by. The memory of what had transpired inside not too long ago was fresh in his mind.

 _The lifelong devotee of the Great Dragon felt the air leave his lungs when his back slammed into the metal wall of the conference room, his body thrown and held aloft telekinetically via the Force. Darth Novos, the Speaker, liaison to his living god, held his hand out to keep the former pinned. Despite his obvious internal panic at this predicament, somewhere in the back of his mind, Antiochus knew it would be futile to try and break free. The Dark Lord standing just a few feet away across the table had powers and knowledge of the Force far beyond any he'd ever seen, both via hologram and in person. Even Lelani, his faithful second-in-command, seemed pinned to her seat, helpless to do anything but watch. He could sense her eyes wide with fear behind her own mask. She might not even intervene even if she could, and he couldn't blame her at all. With Novos, the longtime cult leader couldn't sense anything but a cold, building, barely-restrained rage coupled with a genuine apathy, the latter directed to what Antiochus could only presume was his own life. Mustering what nerve and oxygen he could, the Grand Master choked out his plea._

 _"_ _S-Speaker… please! I-!"_

 _"_ _Not only did your blunder reveal our existence to the Jedi, the Rebellion, and the False Imperials, you destroyed a site of great cultural significance and archeological study during your little escapade on Ryloth," Novos spoke simply, darkly, with his nightmare-inducing, seemingly disembodied voice. "Our mutual superior, the one true lord and master of all things, does not take kindly to either. You know as well as I how much he values discretion and treasures history."_

 _"_ _I… beg you!" Antiochus gagged, feeling the pressure on his chest increasing. At this rate, his entire form would be crushed against the wall, soon. "I-I can make t-this right! One more… chance! Please!"_

 _Novos said nothing for what seemed like the longest stretch of time in the memory of the Grand Master, only applying more and more pressure. Antiochus could swear he felt his ribcage begin to crack. Finally, at the last possible second before any serious injury could occur, the Dark Lord pulled his hand away and allowed the Grand Master to fall and crumble onto the cold floor below. As the Grand Master coughed violently and finally got much-needed oxygen into his lungs, the Dark Lord spoke with finality._

 _"_ _Were it up to me, you would be dying a very slow, painful, excruciating death right now. However, my master has seen fit to grant you one last chance. One last chance, and that is all."_

 _"_ _That is all I need!" Antiochus clamored, relieved and jubilant even as he remained on his hands and knees, his strength slow to return. "Oh, praise the Great Dragon! His power and wisdom are rivaled only by his graciousness! I will make this right, and see to it nothing compromises his grand design!"_

 _"_ _I would certainly hope so. If I have to come back here again, I assure you, this discussion won't be repeated."_

 _Without further ado and not waiting for the cult leader to pull himself up off the floor, Darth Novos turned and left, almost gliding out of the room as if he were a phantom. The cold chill that permeated the room with his presence departed with him, to the relief of both its remaining occupants._

The lifelong devotee of the Great Dragon had no desire to be paid another visit from the Speaker ever again, to put it simply. The Rebels and their Jedi champions had proven resilient, more than expected. Silently, Antiochus cursed Gobi, who had been one of the Society's most prominent members among the Twi'lek people until his death. True, being in a fledgling resistance movement meant one had to travel lightly, but surely the man could've found somewhere more secure to store his medallion, that which signified his allegiance and faith to all others of the Society. If only the False Imperials had crushed Cham Syndulla and his forlorn uprising sooner. None of this would be happening. Every last one of the devoted is supposed to take their secrets with them to the grave. The unbelievers never deserved to learn as much as they already have.

As he arrived at the double doors to the war room where his lieutenants awaited his arrival, the Grand Master steeled himself. Now was not the time for regrets and thoughts of what could have been. It was time to make things the way they were supposed to be, once again.

 _"_ _This upstart Jedi orphan will not undo millennia of work. I will see to that personally."_

* * *

While the leaders of the Great Dragon Society plotted their next move out of sight and safely away from prying eyes, elsewhere in the Galaxy, things weren't so calm.

Rivalries could be quite curious things. It's a given that two opponents will seek to outdo one another, to prove their superiority to the other, and come out on top while leaving the other in the dust. However, when two rivals prove themselves to each other, a sense of respect and admiration can also work its way to the surface. A worthy opponent, one you both dread and look forward to clashing with time and time again.

Above the Mid Rim world of Aviles Prime, the Imperial 7th Fleet and the bulk of the Separatist Armada, commanded by Grand Admiral Thrawn and Admiral Ralon Zalveniad respectively, were engaged in yet another battle, their numbers and firepower nearly even. Capital ships exchanged turbolaser fire as starfighters entangled in dogfights around and between them. From where he stood on the bridge of his flagship, the _Intrepid_ , the Arkanian naval officer was conversing with his rival on the state of the battle. While his staff continued monitoring and directing his fleet's efforts, Zalveniad listened intently to Thrawn, knowing the longer he kept the Chiss' attention away from the action, the better chance his own ships had to come out of this intact.

"If you surrender now, I may be able to persuade the Emperor to show you mercy. It would almost be a shame to kill you now, my dear adversary," Thrawn appealed, knowing his offer was a pretty big 'if.'

"I think you and I both know capture by your empire really means a death sentence in slow motion," Zalveniad retorted. "Besides, based on how things are going so far, I believe it would be premature of you to count us out just yet."

"True, you've managed to destroy and cripple a handful of my frigates and star destroyers, but it's not like you've progressed unscathed either," Thrawn countered, "And I feel it only fair to warn you that the entirety of the 11th Fleet is inbound, due to arrive in a matter of minutes. You may have thought keeping my attention away from the battle would work in your favor, but few things can compensate for overwhelming numbers."

The Arkanian admiral's remaining organic eye widened as the realization sunk in. It quickly faded, however. He was only partially surprised, in hindsight.

"Saw through that, did you?" Zalveniad chuckled in spite of himself. The Chiss admiral couldn't resist a smirk as he replied.

"Just as you saw through my decoy maneuver at the start of this battle. I would've had a direct line of fire to your flagship had you not," Thrawn recalled earnestly.

With a silent nod to one of the B-1 droids looking up at him from a control station, Zalveniad gave the order to retreat. He bid his adversary a courteous farewell.

"As much as I enjoy our conversations, I'm afraid it is time I make my exit, I hope you understand."

"I do, but I also hope you know one of these days we won't have the option of falling back. Like any fine piece of art, our stalemate cannot continue without an end. It will be broken, and when it is, only one of us can walk away," Thrawn warned with absolute certainty in his voice.

"I am aware, and I have a feeling that day will come sooner than we may think."

Thrawn ordered his fleet to cease fire as Zalveniad had his ships turn away before jumping to hyperspace. It would be the last time the two would depart with their forces on equal terms.

* * *

With the exception of multiple outlying outposts in the Outer and Far Rims, Dubrillion being the most notable example, the Rebellion currently lacked a permanent planetary base. The Rebel fleet was almost constantly on the move, stretching every last drop of fuel it acquired to the absolute maximum. The flotilla of various classes of capital ships, frigates, corvettes, and transports frequently came to rest in orbit on unpopulated planetoids in deep space while waiting on new fuel shipments, and found itself running on fumes almost just as much. One thing was clear, the Rebels would need to embark on a new offensive, one that would make lasting impact, and soon. Otherwise, the Galactic Civil War would be over and the fight to be free a lost cause, a prospect all personnel among their ranks dreaded.

With the complete commitment of the Mon Calamari people to their cause, the Rebellion did finally regain the naval forces their fleet lost at Scarif and Evocar three years prior, with superior firepower to boot. Truthfully, the Rebel Navy was the strongest it had ever been, but it was still just one fleet, a far cry from the numbers the Imperial Navy had at their disposal. Still, the Mon Cal Star Cruisers were nothing to scoff at. Their offensive capabilities nearly matched those of _Imperial II_ Star Destroyers.

The largest of the Mon Cal cruisers to join the Rebel Fleet after the evacuation of Hoth had been _Home One_ , the new flagship of recently-promoted Admiral Gial Ackbar and the entirety of the Rebel Fleet as well. As such, it became a space-going headquarters for the Rebellion, the closest thing they had to a permanent base. It was from here that the Rebel leaders lodged and planned their next move in the increasingly dire war with the Galactic Empire. It was also, in one of the ship's docking bays, where Ezra chose to bring his vessel in for landing.

"Your clearance code checks out. Welcome home, _Starbird_ ," one of the bridge staff informed the young Jedi over the comm.

"Thank you _Home One_ , it's good to be back, as always," Ezra replied, not intending to stay long. He rarely did these days.

The moment the _Starbird_ touched down in the hangar, Ezra was off, leaping from the entryway even before the boarding ramp fully extended to the floor. HK-47 followed but seconds later. In a run-walk, with his purpose and destination clear, he made his way up to the war room with the droid in tow, knowing Minister Mon Mothma, Princess Leia Organa, and Admiral Gial Ackbar were typically there to talk strategy at this time of every standard rotation.

When the Jedi and the assassin droid arrived at the war room minutes later, they found the three Rebel leaders present as expected. The admiral, the minister, and the princess all stood in front of the large holotable in the center of the chamber, the latter two discussing their plans with the former as he worked on a datapad held in his hands, no doubt cataloguing and running the numbers, so to speak. Ezra cleared his throat and walked over.

"Pardon the intrusion…" he said as he neared where they stood.

The three said nothing, but Minister Mothma shared a silent nod with Princess Organa, who returned the gesture, unspoken words passing between them. Without wasting another moment, Leia left the group and strode past Ezra, motioning for him to follow her. With a curious brow arched in slight confusion, the young Jedi followed, as did HK. Once they were outside the door and back in the corridor through which Ezra and the droid had come, she spoke.

"Commander Bridger, the Minister has grown tired of you interrupting these meetings. This is official business that concerns the entirety of the Alliance. We can't just drop everything for you every time you think you have a lead on the whereabouts of a dead-"

"He's alive!" Ezra interrupted, sharply and defiantly. Leia nearly flinched at the outburst, but to her credit stood her ground. Shaking her head with a sigh, she continued.

"Believe me, Ezra, I know what it feels like to lose people close to you, people you've respected and looked to for guidance. My adoptive parents on Alderaan, Master Kenobi, and plenty of others…," she paused for a moment, casting her gaze downwards in memory, and he waited quietly and patiently, sympathetic, "But, you have to understand, fuel is a precious, increasingly rare resource for the fleet right now. The Minister has made it clear: we can't afford to keep giving you cells for your personal starship when you're not going on missions critical for the Rebellion."

"But, your highness," the young Jedi pleaded, "I have a pair of new coordinates and other new intel to act on! I can't let up now, we may be _this_ close to finding Kanan!" using his right thumb and index finger, he displayed the typical 'close' gesture for emphasis.

"Yes, Qashi sent us the same dual sets of coordinates, but without more information we can't possibly act on-"

"I'll act on it!" Ezra interrupted again, adamant. "Please, princess, I _have_ to do this. Not just for myself, but for Hera, Sabine, Luke, and the rest of the Rebellion as well. If there's even the slightest chance we can get a Jedi of Kanan's caliber back into our ranks, we have to take it!"

Several long moments passed in silence. As Ezra's pleading eyes kept boring into hers, eventually Leia felt her own resolve, that to follow orders for the good of the Rebellion, crumble. With another heavy sigh, she acquiesced. It wasn't like this young man was the only one here set to embark on a dangerous mission to rescue someone they cared about.

"Okay, fine. I really shouldn't be telling you this, but…" the Alderaanian noblewoman paused for a moment, briefly looking over her shoulder before continuing, "Hera mentioned that the cult leader referred to Nanthema during the battle at Zylema Pinnacle. I did some checking, and while it took me some time as records of the planet are remarkably scarce, I have confirmed it's in the Chorlian Sector, close to that second set of coordinates our mercenary friend provided. I cannot say if the two are related, but it may be your best chance at a new lead in your search."

After taking another moment to absorb the information, the Lothalian champion nodded, both in affirmation and appreciation.

"Thank you, your highness. I know you are taking considerable risk by telling me this."

"You didn't hear it from me, Ezra, and I must insist you go see Sabine before you head out again," Leia's voice took on a familiarly commanding tone as she finished. It wasn't a request, even though it was worded as such. She arched a brow in response to Ezra's widening eyes.

"She wasn't due back for another few days…" he almost stammered, surprise and nervousness briefly flashing in his eyes before he caught both.

"The strike team she was sent to reinforce completed their objective ahead of schedule," the princess' tone didn't let up as she elaborated further, "She was surprised to learn you weren't here when she returned a few hours ago. I told her you would explain things to her, so if I were you, I'd get right on that."

"Right," Ezra sighed, guilt creeping into his own voice, "I'll take care of it right now. Come on, HK," he motioned for the mechanized killer to follow him as he turned to leave.

"Observant Clarification: If your present endeavor will lead to more meatbag drama as I've calculated, master, I will simply wait for you on the ship."

 **A/N: And there you have it. And by the way, Happy Thanksgiving everyone. :)**

 **As always, a most sincere thank you to everyone of you for taking the time to read my work, as well as my longtime beta reader Wikked Grin, who is by no exaggeration an exceptional writer in his own right. Until the next time, safe journeys to you all.**

 **Update: After some unfortunate and very unexpected delays, I can confirm that this story will continue in March, 2019.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Paths We Take

Star Wars: Rebels: Truth in Legends

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: At long last, the hiatus is over.** **Welcome back to all my returning readers!** **I apologize profusely for the unexpected and extended delay, and I won't bore any of you with the details. I believe I've kept all of you waiting long enough, so enjoy!**

Chapter 2: The Paths We Take

It was down on the crew accommodation decks of _Home One_ that the Rebellion's resident Jedi Knight and Mandalorian gunslinger had been afforded a cabin of their own. It was mostly spartan, and only slightly larger than the crew quarters on the _Ghost_ , but it had everything the couple needed, including a private refresher chamber, something typically reserved for higher-ranking officers and officials. While they both preferred their more secluded accommodations on the _Starbird_ , this cabin was, for all intents and purposes, their home for the time being, pun not intended.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, her armor discarded and left in her jumpsuit and boots, Sabine Wren had just finished scrubbing her blasters for the second time in the last couple hours. She knew it was a waste of cleaning solution, but she preferred to keep busy however she could, especially when she had no idea where her husband was. He hadn't been scheduled for any missions, and she was understandably surprised to discover he was absent upon her return to the Rebel flagship. Ezra had been a tad more aloof than usual these past couple weeks, but the young Mandalorian decided it was just his way of dealing with Kanan's apparent death. They had barely talked about it, admittedly, but when they did, Sabine knew he understood she was there if he needed someone to talk to, and vice versa. She still hadn't fully come to terms with it either, truthfully. For her own part, Hera had buried herself in her work as a general, and caring for her daughter, and Sabine respected that. Everyone coped in different ways. Things hadn't been this difficult for the crew since they lost Zeb, but each of them took solace in the knowledge that like that, they weren't facing this loss alone, either.

When the door to the hallway swished open, Sabine looked up to find her favorite Jedi had returned to her. She offered him a faint smile, though her eyes told Ezra he had some explaining to do. It didn't take him long to realize she was waiting for him to speak.

"So… um, you're back early," the Lothalian nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, intelligence actually _over_ estimated the number of Imps at the objective, for once," the Mandalorian rolled her eyes as she recollected, "Honestly, it was pretty much just mopping up by the time I got there."

"How boring," Ezra teased.

"Yeah, well, we _did_ manage to snag some much-needed munitions for the fleet. But I'd much rather hear about what you've been up to, oh husband of mine," Sabine pressed the heart of the matter, leaning forward from her perch and eyeing him seriously. Ezra's grin faded.

"Look, I know I should have told you where I was going, or at least left a message, but it was just a simple meet up with a contact for information, nothing dangerous. I didn't even have to fight anybody, honest!"

"Exclamation: I did!" a familiar mechanical voice gleefully chimed in from outside in the hallway. Ezra immediately reached out through the Force to activate the door controls and seal it behind him.

"Details, now," Sabine ordered sharply, folding her arms across her chest as her eyes narrowed.

"I may have recovered some intel vital to finding Kanan," Ezra answered honestly. He couldn't lie to her, and any attempt to change the subject would be useless. After all, her sharp wit was one of the many things about her that he fell for in the first place.

"May have?" Sabine arched a brow, clearly skeptical.

"It's not a hundred percent, but hey, what is?" the Jedi shrugged.

"How irritated I am right now, for starters" the Mandalorian countered instantly.

Ezra sighed and hung his head low. Despite her frustration at him, Sabine couldn't help but let her expression soften. She knew his heart was in the right place. Ezra could definitely still be boneheaded at times, but he never meant to intentionally upset her. She didn't need the Force to know he was still beating himself up over losing Kanan, and any chance he thought was there to make things better, both for himself and the rest of the crew, he would take.

"Ezra," she began with a sigh of her own, "I know you miss him. I do too. I've given you your space up until now to deal with it in your own way, but make no mistake, I need to know where you are and what you're doing, especially when it's off somewhere in this vast galaxy with that homicidal maniac of a droid."

"I was afraid you wouldn't understand," he replied sadly, looking back up to meet her gaze, "I know you, Hera, Chopper, and everyone else thinks I'm wasting my time on some wild bantha chase, but I can't give up. If I give up, it's like I…"

"Like you failed him, again…" Sabine finished for him. She knew he had never fully come to terms with the events of that fateful mission to Malachor 1.

"Yeah…" Ezra admitted as his head hung low again, in defeat.

Sabine felt the last remnants of her irritation and frustration dissipate. She stood up and walked over to him. He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he nearly jumped when he felt her pull him into a tight, warm embrace. He raised his head to meet her gaze again, just in time for her to seal her lips against his in a deep kiss. It was slow, purposeful. His suspicions were confirmed when she pulled away and spoke earnestly to his stunned face.

"You failed no one, Ezra. You could never fail any of us," she told him sincerely, her expression fierce and her voice absolutely certain.

Wetness formed in the corners of his eyes, and he heaved a shaky sigh when he felt her reach up to wipe them away. She maneuvered them over to the edge of the bed, and she sat down, pulling him with her. The Mandalorian held her Jedi close to her, placing his head against her chest. Slowly, he closed his eyes, content to listen in silence to her heartbeat.

 _"_ _I have to get stronger. I have to protect her! I have to protect Hera, too, and Dawn, all of them!"_

* * *

A couple days passed. It was after dark in the capital city on Mandalore, Keldabe. Having spent most of the day in strategic meetings with his top generals, Mand'alor the Vindicator was about ready to finally get some shuteye. The aging veteran was no stranger to meticulous planning in the war effort, and he was grateful to have lieutenants like Fenn Shysa, Kuervo Ordo, and Bo Katan Kryze who shared his attention to detail. He was even starting to allow Ursa and Alrich Wren occasional attendance at these conferences, and they brought their own skill sets to the table. Still, there's only so much dialogue and cataloguing the individual mind and body can take before it's ready to shut down for a while. Naturally, when an unexpected call for him came in on the holocall transceiver in his stronghold's communications hub, he audibly groaned at the prospect of an unwelcome interruption to his demanding schedule.

"Manda'vod. Do you have any idea what karking time it is here?" the supreme ruler of the Mandalorians fought the urge to growl through clenched teeth in exhausted frustration when the live holoimage of Ezra appeared through the projector on the transceiver.

The young Jedi Knight in question could only grin nervously, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck in uncertainty. When he mustered his nerve, he spoke.

"Yeah, hehe, sorry about that. But... I won't be able to make this call once my ship goes into hyperspace, and this will be the last chance I'll have to ask you something…" he trailed off, perhaps sensing the twitching eyebrow of the Mando'ade leader behind the latter's helmet. If looks could kill…

"Ask, and I will answer, but be quick about it," Mand'alor replied sharply yet restrained, his souring mood contained, for the moment.

"Have you ever heard of a planet called Nanthema, in the Chorlian Sector? I'm heading there right now, flying in mostly blind. The holonet has nothing. You've seen much more of this galaxy than I have. I thought perhaps, maybe, you'd be able and willing to help shed some light on this for me, please?" Ezra inquired earnestly, and somewhat meekly.

"Seriously, boy? What am I here, your travel agent?" Mand'alor rolled his eyes, folding his arms and sighing in exasperation as he did so. "Fine. If we have anything on this mystery world of yours, it will be archived in our databanks. Give me a few minutes and I'll call you back. Fair warning, if you don't answer for any reason at all, I will personally hunt you down just for the satisfaction of throttling you."

"Oh… um… thanks, I think. I'll be here!"

Ezra sat in silence for the next several minutes, and then several minutes turned into a dozen. Soon, a full half hour had passed, and no reply had come. Uneasiness soon gave way to uncertainty. Finally, after an extended and very uncomfortable period of silence, the telltale ping of an incoming holocall sounded off at the controls, and the young Jedi swiftly answered it.

"Well, that took longer than expected," Mand'alor began in an exhausted voice, "It was buried away in the system, but I found one mention of Nanthema, from an old scouting report some of my troops conducted in the Chorlian Sector during the last war," the aging veteran took a moment to yawn in spite of himself before continuing.

"Take your time, I really appreciate this," the freedom fighter from Lothal expressed sincerely.

"Whatever. Now, this is a bit dated, but apparently it's an unpopulated world devoid of any noticeable signs of life, both sentient and non-sentient. No surface water to speak of, either. Multiple scans and sweeps showed no trace of enemy activity, and since it was a significant distance away from any active warzones at the time, it seems this report was never given a second look. Okay, now if you don't mind, I'm going to go turn in," not skipping a beat, Mand'alor moved to cut the transmission, eager to finally get some shuteye. His ally's voice stilled him, much to his chagrin.

"Wait, that's it?" Ezra arched a brow, clearly underwhelmed by the sparse information. "It's just an empty world that nobody lives on?"

"According to this scouting report from about twenty five years ago, yes," the Mandalorian ruler sighed before letting out another yawn, "And before you ask, no, I have nothing more current on this planet. Our business is concluded, safe travels, boy. Now goodnight!"

The eradicator of Death Watch didn't wait another second before ending the holocall. Ezra let himself release a sigh of his own. It was better than nothing, at the very least.

* * *

When Emperor Palpatine formed the Imperial Inquisition in the aftermath of Order 66, the organization's stated purpose was to root out and deal with any surviving Jedi troublemakers causing unrest in the Galaxy. By and large, the Dark Jedi who formed the ranks achieved this, with a handful of notable exceptions. When Palpatine declared the Great Jedi Purge a success shortly before the Battle of Yavin, many Inquisitors felt the days of their unique status were numbered. So naturally, when it was announced the Inquisition as a whole would be reassigned to track down and decimate an enigmatic cult of Force users, most felt relief at the news.

The most significant piece of intel on their new foe to come forward, yet, was news of a secret listening station near Taspan in the Mid Rim. The Grand Inquisitor himself, with a hand-picked team of cohorts, had arrived to spearhead the raid on the converted, former Separatist service depot.

Galen Marek, aka Starkiller, flanked by his longtime allies and fellow Inquisitors Garnac and Barriss Offee, swiftly cut through the rank-and-file Disciples and reactivated B-2 battle droids in the corridor leading further into the interior from the main hangar pay. They had already lost two fellow Inquisitors and almost an entire company of troopers just securing the area behind them. Every inch taken had been paid for with blood. Still, they pressed forward, leaving corpses both friend and foe in their wake.

"If the intel is accurate, we'll find the control room in the center of this place!" Starkiller called out to his allies, using the Force to tear a pair of droids apart before impaling a Disciple, all the while dodging enemy blasterfire.

"Let's get this over with!" Barriss griped with a huff while deflecting blasterfire, more often than not right back into those pulling the triggers. She clearly had little personal investment or interest in the mission.

"Haha! This isn't a choke point, it's a meat grinder!" Garnac clamored in delight. The Trandoshan barred his razor-like teeth in a sadistic grin as he cleaved another Disciple in two. His left side was caked in blood splatter; minutes ago he tore off an arm from yet another unfortunate Disciple and left the man to bleed to death in agony on the floor behind them. Barriss had then taken the latter's head off with her blade, if only to shut up his screams, much to the irritation of her reptilian compatriot.

Finally, after several more minutes of relentless slaughter, the trio had arrived at their destination. After cutting through the two blast doors in their way, they stepped into the control room, and immediately found another large group of Disciples and B-1 battle droids waiting with railgun rifles trained on them, plus two Adherents with their lightsaber polearms drawn and ignited. The Society's commanding officer, a young Dau'to Twi'lek female, a Champion in rank, had a railgun rifle drawn in her right hand, and a vibroknife in her left. She yelled at the three Inquisitors as they quickly moved into defensive stances.

"Unbeliever filth! You dare attack the faithful of the Great Dragon?! You will answer for this unforgivable affront with your lives!"

"I'm gonna enjoy hearing you scream!" Garnac spat in reply.

Barriss stayed silent, merely rolling her eyes.

"One chance: surrender, and we will show you and what's left of your forces mercy," Starkiller offered, sternly yet sincere.

"Kill them all!" was all the Twi'lek had to say.

Almost immediately, the three Inquisitors found themselves pinned as they deflected a constant rate of fire. Since their enemies were now using projectile guns rather than blasters, they were left with nothing to deflect back at them. After a moment, Starkiller and Barriss both drew a pair of droids to themselves through the Force, severed their hands and their weapons along with them, and used them as shields as they lunged toward the enemy line. Garnac seized upon the distraction they created and leapt at their foes, hacking and slashing as he landed directly among his opponents. Limbs and heads both organic and mechanical went flying. The two Adherents had entered the fray at this point, but they were outnumbered and were quickly forced on the defensive.

It was only a few short minutes before the Adherents were all that remained between the Inquisitors and their objective. The Twi'lek was now frantically working at one of the computer consoles against the far wall. As Barriss locked blades with one Adherent and Starkiller electrocuted the second with Force lightning, Garnac saw his chance and lunged at the Champion, but she heard his movements and dodged his attack just in time. The Trandoshan Dark Side user had to break off his attack at the last second, lest he destroy the console and any valuable information on it. His opponent seized this opening, and hurled her vibroknife into him, the sharp metal blade embedding itself deep into his torso just below the ribcage. Garnac choked out a surprised, pained gasp, eyes wide in surprise as blood began to run from the corners of his mouth. He nearly lost his footing as he recoiled slightly

"You schutta!" he spat blood as he roared, "I'm gonna gut you for that!"

The reptilian Inquisitor raised his doublesaber to strike at her again, but his movements had slowed, and the Champion was quick on her draw. She used her railgun to shoot his weapon out of his claws, and she then took aim straight for his head as he fell to one knee.

Then, at that moment, she didn't have enough time to process the sound of the last Adherent falling to the floor, dead.

Before she could react, the Twi'lek Champion felt her own eyes go wide in surprise as her rifle was torn from her hands telekinetically. Starkiller drew the firearm to him and sliced it in two with his own doublesaber. The Champion quickly went for a sidearm blaster pistol at her side, but she herself was pulled through the Force before she could grasp it, right into Barriss' blade. The Mirilan Inquisitor cut through her midsection, nearly cleaving her in half as well before dropping her to the floor.

"Captain!" Starkiller wasted no time calling the Stormtrooper officer back at the landing zone, "The control room is secure! Send in the tech team and a medic, pronto!"

"Right away, sir!" came the reply.

The Human Inquisitor moved to assist his wounded ally, and just as Barris moved to check on the Champion at her feet, she dodged more fire from a railgun. One of the Disciples, critically wounded but still alive, had mustered just enough strength to keep the female Inquisitor distracted as his commanding officer dragged herself over to the console. By the time Barriss finished him off with a telekinetic snap of his windpipe and Starkiller saw where the Twi'lek had gone, it was too late. She managed to enter a four digit code and press one single button before his Force lightning struck her and blasted her back onto the floor, but it was all that was needed.

A foreboding alarm sounded and red lights began flashing just as a group of four Imperial technicians and one medical officer arrived. They immediately set about their work over at the various computers and Garnac, respectively.

"That better not be what I think it is!" Starkiller growled in anger and frustration as he kicked the Champion onto her back, moving his blade to her neck. She chuckled weakly, mockingly.

"In five minutes… th-this entire station will… will be reduced to space dust. You… will… n-never escape with our data… in time! Burn in hell… False Imperials!" with a defiant last breath, she succumbed to her wounds.

"Sir!" one of the technicians drew the Grand Inquisitor's attention to him, "We have a partial download of the main computer underway, but it will take more time to complete the process!"

"Is there any way to shut down to self-destruct?!" Starkiller inquired immediately.

"Negative, sir!" another technician answered after a few seconds, "We need whatever code she put in to activate it, and we don't have enough time to try and slice through any more encryption!"

"Lord Vader will not be pleased if we don't finish the mission," Barriss drolled out, but her eyes showed she was indeed serious.

"What we have is what we got," Starkiller reasoned, "Everyone, fall back to the LZ! We're pulling out!" he finished while speaking into his comm.

With the partial download compiled on a single datapad, the three Inquisitors, one supported by the medic, hurriedly retreated the way they had come, with the technicians in tow. Mere minutes later, the _Sentinel_ -class transport shuttle they had arrived and evacuated in just barely cleared the blast zone in time.

* * *

When the _Starbird_ dropped out of hyperspace at the coordinates provided, it wasn't long before Ezra caught sight of the mystery world in question. A simple re-alignment of their trajectory, and the young Jedi Knight and ancient assassin droid were en-route to their true destination.

The planet ahead vaguely resembled other desert worlds at a distance, but Ezra could tell immediately that something was off. While other worlds of barren expanses and sand dunes like Tatooine had at least some signs of varying landscapes and clouds in the atmosphere, however small and scarce, Nanthema showed nothing at all from space except what appeared to be an empty wasteland across the entire surface. The appearance began to shift from that of a desert to a landscape choked with ash as the ship drew closer.

The moment the _Starbird_ entered the upper reaches of the atmosphere, Ezra immediately felt something surge through his very being. His heart sank deep into his stomach. It wasn't long before he realized this was a feeling unlike any other he had ever experienced in his travels before. It was definitely deeply foreboding, but somehow, it didn't feel like anything Sith he knew about up to that point.

The young Jedi had felt the Dark Side more than once before, both from his opponents and his own use of the Trayus Holocron, but this was different. While the Dark Side typically felt cold, intimidating, and yet tempting, this felt… draining. It was as if the very air around his ship was trying to suck the life out of his body.

Ezra had not even touched down on the surface of the mysterious, barren, forgotten world below him, and still he knew, something terrible happened here.

 **A/N: Chapter 3 is in progress, and I will post updates on its progress here. I can say for certain there won't be another lengthy wait like last time. Again, I apologize for that. Once again a most heartfelt and sincere thank you to all of you, as well as my longtime beta reader and friend, WikkedGrin.**

 **Best wishes to you all, and I look forwaed to continuing this saga with each and every one of you. :)**


	3. Chapter 3: Where the Force Dies

Star Wars: Rebels: Truth in Legends

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: I know this update has been a long time coming, and for that I apologize. I wont bore you all with the details, but I was in a car accident a couple months ago amd everything seemed to just go downhill from there.**

 **I do believe thins may finally be looking up and I've recovered my inspiration to resume writing. This chapter, as you likely figured out, contains heavy references to The Old Republic in the Expanded Universe. I do hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 3: Where the Force Dies

The _Starbird_ had touched down within sight of a deep, foreboding crevice. Crumbling, windswept ruins dotted the landscape on both sides. They were caked in the grey-colored barren ash and dust that coated the entire surface of this long dead and forgotten world.

After the boarding ramp extended, Ezra and HK appeared at the top. The young Jedi Knight cautiously began to descend; while he had managed to center himself against the negative effects of this cursed planet's atmosphere as much as possible, he was understandably wary about any effects on the actual surface. The draining feeling, the hunger, it was still there, but diluted successfully to some degree. After a few moments of hesitation, Ezra audibly sighed in relief. It seemed the strategy he improvised would hold, for now. He allowed himself a brief, sad smile as he stood in thought for but a moment.

" _Seems I owe you another thanks, master. It may have been intended to conceal our presence through the Force from the likes of Vader and his Inquisitors, but this technique seems to dampen whatever strange power this world has over Force users."_

"Observation: It would seem there is nothing of particular interest in the vicinity, master. Both my own sensors and scans from the ship have not picked up any signs of life, nor any electronic power signatures that would indicate sentient habitation. Addendum: It's as if this entire rock is completely empty; not even plant matter appears on the scopes."

"That may be, but look around, HK," Ezra quickly countered, "We're surrounded by ruins. Ancient, collapsing, clearly from a time long before I or even you were brought into existence, but irrefutable proof people once lived here… and died here."

Slowly, the Lothalian's gaze shifted across the chasm, through the very long-derelict ruins, and toward a singular structure that seemed out-of-place. It was at a considerable distance away, just barely within eyesight from where the two stood, but Ezra could faintly make out some distinguishing features that set it apart from the other ruins. While it was indeed caked in the same ash and dust, it stood seemingly intact, for the most part. It also had a unique shape, an isosceles trapezoid. It was definitely newer than the rest of the ruins, yet still, somehow, it had joined them in abandonment. Ezra knew right away this was his destination. His faithful and often morose droid picked up on his intentions.

"Analysis: While I don't quite gather your intentions, master, it seems your way forward is decided. Query: Though I doubt we will find anything to kill, shall I accompany you?"

"No, someone has to stay with the ship. We can't leave it unattended, and depending on what I find, we may need a quick exit."

"Acknowledgement: As you wish, master. Clarification: Though, I feel the need to point out if you wanted a mechanized attendant for your vessel, General Syndulla's astromech was presently available when we were last aboard the _Home One_."

"Are you kidding me?" Ezra turned to HK, incredulous, "Chopper would blab to Hera the second we were out of earshot."

"Commentary: Yes, I do find that droid's stifling of his meatbag handlers quite amusing. Clarification: Not to disparage you, of course, master," the mechanized killer quickly amended, "Be assured I take delight in the misfortune and suffering of all other meatbags with you as the sole exception!"

"Gee, thanks, that certainly puts me at ease," the Jedi couldn't help but roll his eyes.

The journey towards the curious structure went by in silence. It was a narrow path that led through several of the ruins, and it soon became clear to Ezra that he was walking through what had once been a city. Every so often, he glanced upon something like a half-buried table, a collapsed bedframe, or a broken storage container, more signs that these derelict remains of ancient buildings had indeed been inhabited by living, breathing, feeling people. No doubt countless examples had been unearthed and reburied over the centuries as the winds blew the ash and dust about the landscape. However, as he looked around, the young hero of the Rebellion took notice that there were no signs of skeletal remains, or even markers that would indicate gravesites.

It was as if every trace of the people that once dwelled here had been left behind, save for any trace of the people themselves.

Either these long-gone inhabitants had all packed up and left safely, or Ezra's growing suspicion that something truly awful had transpired here had some merit. As he drew closer to his destination, the young man from Lothal deduced he would either find a way to cross the nearby chasm on his own, or he could simply call HK to pick him up. It also became evident, based on the mostly-buried pieces of rubble jutting out of the canyon walls inside the chasm, that it wasn't present when the city had originally been built.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, for a split second, Ezra thought he saw something move. Whirling around on his heels, the Jedi Knight indeed caught sight of a humanoid figure, cloaked in black, walking through the ruins. He was about to call out to the person, the words were on his lips, but the mysterious figure had moved behind a section of a collapsed building, and out of sight. Ezra took off in a sprint immediately, all the while his mind reminding him of the fact that all scans had indicated Nanthema was devoid of any traces of life. Something didn't add up, that much was clear. When he turned the corner around the same section of rubble, he saw the figure again, this time approaching what appeared be a section of bridge leading out over the chasm.

"Hey! Wait up!" Ezra called out. He received no response. The figure walked onto the bridge and moved out of his eyesight once again, and so the pursuit continued.

When the young Jedi arrived at the edge of the bridge, it was clear that like his destination, it was definitely newer than the other ruins. It was metallic, not stone, and had been built specifically to span the chasm, and the latter hadn't simply opened up underneath it. However, it was clear that it too had gone many centuries without use, as it was fragmented. The midsection of the span was completely gone, likely having broken off and plummeted below some time ago. Still, Ezra didn't have long to ponder the implications, as he spotted the cloaked figure again, this time on the other remaining section of bridge across the chasm.

"Who are you?! What's going on here?!" he called out, despite his better judgement. The figure didn't turn, or otherwise acknowledge his presence. It merely continued on its way, just as before.

Undaunted, the Lothalian slowly backed up and then ran forward, leaping off the edge of the broken bridge and across to the other side, his jump empowered by the Force. For a brief moment, until he landed on the other side, the draining, gnawing feeling returned. It was as if the cursed planet itself was sensing the moment he amped up his presence through the Force. Ezra briefly struggled to maintain his balance before applying the same technique he used before. The sensation quickly dulled once more, but it still never completely left.

Ezra looked around until he spotted the mysterious figure once again, this time walking up another dirt pathway, up into the shadow of the abandoned structure. Only now did the young Jedi realize how much closer he had gotten to his destination. He had a much better vantage point than he did before, and it definitely looked larger and more imposing close up. Despite its overall sturdy appearance and the fact it was more intact than the other ruins, sections of the building, particularly large parts of the roof, were missing. It had no visible windows or any points of entry with the exception of a single large doorway at the very base of the exterior. It didn't take an expert to realize the interior of the facility, or what was left of it, likely went underground as well.

The cloaked figure continued on, turning down a paved walkway that led straight to the doorway of the building. Ezra resumed the chase, determined to catch up to this person, whoever or whatever they were, but the moment they were out of his line of sight, they vanished, just as before. Now, Ezra stood facing the entrance of the structure. The walkway was simple, evenly paved, though cracked, fractured, and covered in ash and dust over much of it. It was lined with what looked like stone supports that held up long-empty braziers, though most had broken and crumbled into more rubble. A large pair of two thick doors stood shut in the entryway, and the young Jedi couldn't help but note that he hadn't heard or seen them move.

After a few moments of standing in silence, the stillness only interrupted by the light winds and shifting ash and dust at his feet and all around him, Ezra released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in, and began walking forward once again, steeling his nerves for what was to come.

Nothing out of the ordinary occurred until the Lothalian arrived at the doors. For another few seconds, nothing happening. Ezra looked to his left, then to his right, and then over his shoulder. He nearly jumped back in surprise when the doors slowly began to slide open rumbling and scraping as against the floor and ceiling as they did so. Faint rays of light shone inside the hallway before him, all from holes in the ceiling that allowed sunlight to pour through from more gaps further above. Slowly, cautiously, Ezra stepped forward and inside, and the doors immediately began closing behind him. Quickly darting his head back and forth, he spotted what looked like a control mechanism for the doors on his left, and a panel of light switches on his right. Just as the doors sealed shut behind him, he moved to flip the row of switches, and to his surprise, one by one, most of the wall and ceiling lights came to life, though a handful remained off and some flickered out the moment they were reactivated. Whatever this place was, it still had at least _some_ electrical power inside. Ezra quickly deduced nothing had been operating inside until he arrived, explaining why the _Starbird_ and HK's scanners hadn't detected anything. Either that, or the building had some sensor shielding still activated.

In any case, he continued on, seeing no signs or who or what had led him here, for the moment.

* * *

All the while, back aboard the _Home One_ at the Rebel Fleet, Admiral Gilas Akbar stood alone at the holotable in the center of the briefing room. He currently had a detailed holomap of a step-by-step battle plan displayed, and he was studying it carefully while deep in thought. The swish of the double doors that led into the chamber alerted the Mon Calamari to a new arrival. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, and extended some cordiality.

"Punctual as always, Admiral Zalvieniad. Shall we begin?"

"Indeed, Admiral Akbar. Minister Mothma expects our forces to depart within the next eighteen standard hours," the Arkanian reminded his ally, "We need to finalize this and have it on her desk immediately," he added, gesturing to the holomap and then the datapad.

"Very well," and with that, the two veteran naval officers shifted their gaze over to the map, and went down the details and intel reports one at a time.

Their destination was the Maw Installation. It was an Imperial space station classified above top secret, aptly named for its dangerously close proximity to the infamous Maw black hole in the Dalorios Sector of the Outer Rim. Fortified with heavy defenses including sensor cloaking technology, the facility operated primarily as the main research facility for the Imperial Department of Military Research, which until the fateful Battle of Yavin had been led by the late Grand Moff Tarkin. The plans for some of Emperor Palpatine's nastiest toys, including the dreaded Death Star, had been completed on the station. While it was rumored such a facility existed, it had taken the Rebellion's top agents years to pinpoint its location and acquire enough information to stage an all-out assault.

After several minutes of discussion, during which the two admirals carefully plotted and calculated various maneuvers and strategies, the ultimate question regarding the battle plan was all that remained.

"So, we know the 7th Fleet will be present in full-force," Akbar eyed the markers on the holomap indicating said fleet closely, "Grand Admiral Thrawn hopes to use the station as bait to lure us into a trap and eradicate our combined task force, and the both of us as well. If we're not mindful, he may succeed. Should we fall, our coalition will lose roughly ninety percent of its remaining ships."

"A trap we know about is a trap we can use to our advantage," Zalvieniad countered, "We've both faced Thrawn more than once. We likely won't be able to outmaneuver him, and he always has superior firepower. He will certainly be prepared for most any strategy either of us throw at him."

"But if we could take him out, we will deprive the Emperor of his most valuable officer. Perhaps his most valuable subordinate, period, next to Darth Vader of course," the Mon Cal glanced over to his ally, who quickly gleamed his intent with his words.

"I assume you have an idea in mind. I'm all ears."

"Thrawn will be expecting us to push toward the station at some point in the battle. He will be keeping his strongest ships in reserve to block our path. With the Ion Pulse Cannon on your flagship, Zalvieniad, we have a means to punch through their lines. I believe it may be the best course of action for you to keep the _Intrepid_ and a sizable escort back from the main action until that point arrives," Akbar conveyed his thoughts with a serious tone, "We can't risk losing that weapon."

"A sound and reasonable suggestion," the Arkanian agreed to the premise, but felt the need to offer a slight rebuttal, "That said, however, Thrawn knows what a _Subjugator_ -class heavy cruiser like the _Intrepid_ is capable of. She's the last one in existence, after all. He may not wait for us to make the first move. He'll want to take her out of commission before she enters the battle proper, if he can."

"Then what do you suggest?" the Mon Cal inquired, curious.

"Just as the station is too tempting a target for the Rebellion to pass up, my flagship may prove to be the same for our Imperial foes. I concur with your premise that we should keep her and a reasonable detachment separate from the bulk of our forces at the start of the battle, but not to hold her back for the opportune moment. Instead, to force our enemy to fight the battle on two fronts," Zalvieniad lowered his hands to the console and modified the holomap to show their formations re-aligned his way for emphasis, "If we could stretch out the battlefield, then that could potentially even our odds. Make them fight us on our terms. And if the _Chimaera_ at any point gets caught on the wrong end of our blaster sights, we seize that opportunity immediately."

"The _Intrepid_ would be the only ship we have capable of going up against an _Imperial II_ -class Star Destroyer with its full fighter and bomber complement on her own, and even then that could be a greater risk than we need," Akbar cautioned.

"Few great victories comes without risk, my esteemed ally," Zalvieniad countered. "But I digress, time is short and we've spent enough time here," and with that, the aging Arkanian officer deactivated the holomap, pulled a small data chip from the console, and inserted it into the datapad Akbar held in his hands. "Now, I do believe the good minister is waiting for us. Shall we?"

The Mon Cal couldn't help but eye his counterpart warily after the latter turned to leave before following closely.

* * *

Simultaneously, inside the mysterious, decaying structure on the empty surface of Nanthema, Ezra had made his way further inside. After some exploring up and down a handful of corridors and empty rooms, and still finding no signs of life, the young Jedi arrived at what looked like an office. It had a simple metal desk, chair, and a filing cabinet behind it. All were worn, slightly battered, and covered in a heavy layer of dust. The few ceiling lights still working flickered slightly as approached the desk and slowly walked around it. The desk itself was empty, except for a single, long-untouched hololog.

The Lothalian whipped his head around at what sounded like faint whispering coming from behind him, but of course the second he shifted his gaze back to where he'd been, all was silent again. Taking a breath, he turned back around and focused back on the task at hand.

" _Perhaps you have some answers…"_ he thought to himself as he reached for the old device.

Somewhat to his surprise, the ancient power cell in the hololog still had at least some energy left in it as well, and the device sprang to life, projecting a small, flickering holographic image of what appeared to be a male Anomid scientist, adorned in a long lab coat and wearing a respirator mask as his people had to wear most everywhere off their homeworld. The recording this individual had made began to play, though it quickly became clear it was fragmented as Ezra watched intently.

"Dr. Jarak Musen, Work Log C75, Day One. My experiments at this facility… proceeding wonderfully. Today… given… assignment… from Emperor Valkorion himself. I am to… she will be… fascinating case for study. I'm told… boundary I… forbidden to cross is death… I will begin… more conventional methods of inflicting pain…"

At that moment, the section of floor beneath the young Jedi's feet gave way and collapsed. It was so sudden that Ezra had no time to try and halt or even steady his descent with the Force as he fell through with a yelp down to the next level below the office, pieces of the floor as well as a cloud of dust covering him as he did so. The office chair crashed into the floor and fell over mere inches next to him as he was slammed on his back, hard.

Crying out in pain and groaning loudly, Ezra heaved into a fit of coughs as the rubble and dust settled around him. He immediately moved to brush himself off with his hands before slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position, wincing a bit as he did so. Oh yeah, there was definitely some serious bruising on his spine, but at least nothing felt fractured or broken. He took a moment to analyze his new surroundings.

He had fallen into another dimly-lit corridor. It was illuminated like the others above had been only by faint traces of light pouring in from holes in the walls and in the ceilings of adjacent rooms whose doors had been left open, and now also from the new hole directly above him. The young Jedi resolved to search for another light switch and continue on his way, carefully pulling himself to his feet.

It wasn't long before he found the switch, and again several of the ceiling lights hummed to life, and again some of those kept flickering while a couple sputtered back out immediately. However, what was different this time was the familiar, cloaked humanoid figure Ezra had seen outside, but this time lying still and sprawled about on the floor further down the hallway.

"Hey! Are you okay?! What happened?!" he called out to the stranger as he moved over to them. There was still no response. He knelt down beside them and carefully reached out to nudge and turn them over, his concern and curiosity getting the better of him.

He recoiled in horror when he saw the sucked-dry, shriveled-up face of a fellow Human staring back at him.

 **A/N: Work on "Chapter 4: A Legacy in Darkness" has already begun and I anticipate it will be ready within th next few weeks. Also, work on my planned prequel story "Before the Spark" has resumed as well.**

 **I want to once again thank all of you who have stood by me as this series has progressed, along with my good friend and beta reader Wikked Grin as always.**

 **It is within the dark that light shines brightest.**

 **Update: Unexpected delays have taken their toll, but I anticipate Chapter 4 will finally be ready sometime in early September.**


	4. Chapter 4: A Legacy in Darkness

Star Wars: Rebels: Truth in Legends

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: The unplanned hiatus is finally over! A lot has transpired in my life over the last couple months, not all of it good, and as I've already told one of you, there's nothing I can say that won't sound like an excuse. I will say that I am sorry to those of you I've kept waiting all this time, but know it wasn't all in vain. I've never had a clearer picture for the future of this series than I do now. Much remains to be done, and all of it will be completed all in due time.**

Chapter 4: A Legacy in Darkness

Six Years Ago:

 _It had been a trying three weeks for the young Mandalorian. At the request of Rebel High Command, and with reluctance from Hera, Sabine had been drafted for an assignment that took her away from her pseudo family on the_ Ghost. _Apparently, the intelligence branch of the alliance had gotten word that she had a brief stint as a bounty hunter, and Garm Bel Iblis wasted little time drafting her to track down and capture an Imperial scientist who was suspected of being involved in a chemical weapons attack at a town on Bothawui that had sheltered informants for the Rebellion. Not surprisingly, far more civilians than anyone else had been killed in the attack, painfully._

 _It was no secret to those who knew her that Sabine preferred to keep her past where she believed it belonged, in the past. She had been annoyed at the offset that the higher ups in the Rebellion would go behind her back and essentially twist her arm to resume manhunting work for them, but she couldn't deny that at least it was for a good cause. In the end, the ISB had terminated the scientist rather than let him be captured, but the young Mandalorian had succeeded in acquiring an encrypted datapad from the IDMR, or Imperial Department of Military Research for Rebel agents to slice into._

 _Now, to the say that Sabine was exhausted both mentally and physically would have been an understatement. It was late at night when she arrived back at Atollon, and upon returning to the_ Ghost _she found most of the crew had already turned in for the night. Hera extended a warm welcome back, and Sabine would have expected nothing less, but all the latter wanted to do was take a hot shower and return to her room for as long a sleep as possible. After washing up and changing to her sleep wear, Sabine unfurled the blanket over her bunk and moved to climb in. As soon as she laid her head on her pillow, however, she knew something was off. She adjusted her head and shifted her body around slightly, then took a big sniff and she knew her sheets and pillowcase had been washed recently. The fresh scent and texture were plain as day. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and drift off to a well-earned slumber, but Sabine knew she had to thank someone, and she had a pretty good idea who it was._

 _Upon stepping out into the hallway, she found just the Twi'lek she was looking for._

 _"Hey, Hera," Sabine called to her sleepily, rubbing her eyes through the artificial lighting._

 _"Sabine? I thought you'd gone to bed," the matron pilot offered a bemused smile._

 _"I just wanted to say thanks for the fresh linens. I expected to be returning to my bunk as I left it, and I appreciate the gesture."_

 _Sabine grew puzzled at the knowing smirk that formed on Hera's face, but she didn't have to wait long to find out why._

 _"While your gratitude is appreciated, Sabine, I'm afraid it's misplaced. I was stuck in the command center all afternoon. Ezra's the one who tended to your bunk for you."_

 _The young Mandalorian felt her eyes go wide for all but a moment. Hera turned and departed without another word. As Sabine stood in silence for a moment, contemplating what had just been revealed to her, the door to the cabin across the hall slid open and a familiar Lasat warrior stepped out, yawning heavily as he did so._

 _"Oh, hey Sabine. Welcome back," Zeb greeted her as he cleared his throat._

 _"It's good to be back, Zeb," Sabine nodded with an earnest smile._

 _"You'll have to tell me about how many bucketheads you thrashed on your mission, in the morning," the former Honor Guard stated as he turned and started making his way to the refresher._

 _Once he was through the door at the opposite end of the hall, Sabine shifted her gaze back to the entry way to the cabin he shared with the younger of the two resident Jedi; the door had only been partially closed when he exited. Sabine took a couple steps forward and risked peering in._

 _Ezra was fast asleep on the lower bunk, his mop of blueberry-colored hair clearly visible and his form tucked beneath the sheets with his back slightly to her. He shifted slightly in his sleep, and Sabine could now catch a better glimpse of his face. It was peaceful, serene expression that adorned his facial features. He was certainly having a peaceful rest._

 _Sabine couldn't help but smile warmly, allowing her eyes to rest on him just a few moments more turning to leave, closing the door the rest of the way she did so._  
 _He deserved his rest, and she definitely needed some as well. Hera had informed her upon her return that tomorrow the crew would be briefed for a high-priority mission to Ord Mantell…_

* * *

Present Day:

Indeed, there had been a time when Sabine preferred not to think about the past, especially when that past involved her, but these last few years with Ezra had provided her with more memories she was certainly happy to recollect.

'To think, I once scoffed at the notion of feeling this way about someone,' she thought with a mental laugh, her smile that had formed at the memory widening for a moment.

However, the warm and fuzzy feeling inside her was soon replaced by frustration as her face morphed into a scowl. The daughter of Clan Wren had inquired on her Jedi husband's whereabouts with several higher-ups over the last twenty four standard hours, and always got a similar runaround: classified, not at liberty to discuss, etc. Frankly, she was getting pretty tired of it.

'Kriff it,' she cursed in her mind as she moved to pick up the holocommunicator on the nightstand beside the bed she shared with Ezra, and activated it a second later. Her mother had chided her on contacting the ruler of their people regarding personal matters, but she was out of options and definitely not in the mood to just keep sitting and waiting. A familiar face hidden behind a familiar helmet she'd gotten used to in her capacity as liaison between the clans and the Rebellion answered on the other line. He addressed her promptly.

"Ah, Sabine. I wasn't expecting to hear from you today. I'm a little busy at the moment but I can spare a minute, so let's make this quick. What can I do for you?"

"Please, Kevas, I need you to put me in touch with Mand'alor, now," she answered immediately.

"You'll have to call back later, I'm afraid. There are several things that-"

"Kevas Bralor, so help me, if you don't put me in touch with Mand'alor right now, I'll commandeer a ship from the hangar bay and drop down on your karking-"

"Alright, alright! Manda above," the warrior from Clan Bralor waved his frantically hands in exasperated surrender, "Just gimme a moment to patch you through."

Sabine couldn't help but allow herself a slight smirk for all but a moment, and it wasn't long before a live holoimage of the ruler of her people finally appeared. Even though his helmet obscured his face, she didn't need the Force to know he was scowling at her. She stood her ground, however. Talgo Flong, Mand'alor the Vindicator, didn't intimidate her quite as much as he used to. At least, not via holoprojector when he was several star systems away. His gruff and uncompromising voice quickly broke the silence.

"You'd better have a good reason for this interruption, young Wren. My work is never done."

"Mand'alor, sir," Sabine began respectfully, mindful, "Ezra hasn't checked in for some time, and I'm contacting you to inquire whether or not you know where he has gone."

"Ah yes, your life-mate, our newest Manda'vod. Now, what makes you think your dear leader knows where your favorite little Jedi has gone?" the aging veteran of the original True Mandalorians queried.

"Why should I assume you don't know?" the daughter of Clan Wren countered immediately.

Mand'alor sighed.

"You're definitely Ursa's daughter," he retorted. Sabine promptly folded her arms, now that she practically had her answer.

"I'm waiting."

"Fine, but after this, barring emergencies pertaining to the clans or your Rebellion, I expect you to keep this channel silent for the next week."

* * *

Ezra Bridger hadn't exactly known what to expect when he arrived on Nanthema and followed a mysterious hooded figure into the ruins of the only semi-functioning building left on the planet, but it would be safe to assume coming face-to-face with a shriveled-up corpse sporting empty eye sockets certainly wasn't it. The former street orphan from Lothal nearly fell back to the floor as he recoiled in horror, unable to stifle a sharp gasp as he did so. His wide blue eyes showed only shock and a hint of fear.

 _"Do not give into fear, young Jedi. That is exactly what they want you to do, but you are stronger than that."_

The masculine voice that called out to him was completely foreign, yet oddly reassuring and strangely, remotely… familiar. Ezra reflexively looked around in spite of himself, knowing beforehand it was futile. He understood from past experience it was unlikely the person behind this voice was nearby physically, whoever they were.

"What's going on, here? Who are you?"

 _"Both fair questions, but the first one is better posed to you, I believe. As for the second, I am an observer with a keen interest in your excursion to this dreadful location."_

This voice, this presence, Ezra calmed slightly as he determined they weren't hostile. That said, he still had no inkling of who this person was, or where to go next, or what he was even looking for in these ruins. He silently mused that it couldn't hurt to ask this self-proclaimed 'observer,' but he also wanted to know more about them.

"And why is my business here of interest to you?"

The presence chuckled slightly, good-naturedly.

 _"You came here seeking answers. There are none, at least not for the questions you've been asking. As for this place, it is called the Sanatarium, and it was a laboratory used to conduct experiments on our kind many centuries ago."_

"Our kind?" the young Jedi arched a brow in inquiry.

 _"Force-sensitives, dear boy. A great many met their end in these befouled halls, of that there is no doubt."_

"You're saying what happened here was done a long time ago," Ezra decided to press for further explanation, "but I followed a figure cloaked in black in here…"

 _"And the remains you just took several steps back from are cloaked in a similar garb, are they not?"_

Ezra allowed himself another look at the sucked-dry, hooded skeletal figure he had found at his feet a couple minutes ago. Even in the faint light of the darkened hallway, he could see just enough to know the presence was right.

"So it is…"

 _"Indeed. I suspect what you saw was an echo of a life lost in this facility in ages past. A tragic fate, but there is nothing you can do for them now. However, you didn't come here to mingle with spirits, your purpose is much more… personal."_

The young Jedi decided to get right to the point, grateful for the information but now feeling slightly unnerved and ready to move on all the same.

"The cult I'm tracking, are they responsible for what happened here?"

 _"The 'cult' as you put it does send a handful of its elite to this world for training purposes from time to time, but no, they are not responsible for the horrors that took place in the Sanatarium, or on the surface of the planet outside. And before you ask, no, you won't find any further information regarding them here or anywhere else in this entire sector."_

"So you're saying my whole trip here was a waste of time?" Ezra knit his brows together as he grumbled, frustration settling in.

 _"I already told you: the answers you want are not here. Now, that said, some answers you need are here."_

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

 _"Can you not sense it? Close your eyes, and reach out through the Force. I will do what I can to hold the draining curse of this world at bay while you do so, so concentrate with all your focus."_

Ezra took a moment to steel himself. After a moment of stillness and a deep breath, he did as instructed and reached out with his right hand, his palm splayed open and fingers stretched wide. He hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes, and found the debilitating, draining effect that permeated Nanthema was mitigated even moreso than it had been with his own technique, just as the presence said it would be. It was little more than an annoyance now as the young Jedi allowed the living Force within him to reach out from his outstretched hand. Several moments passed, and that was when Ezra sensed it.

It was faint, very much so, but a small trace of what could only be described as familiar, Jedi-like Light Side energy was emenating from a location a couple more floors down, in the lowest of the sublevels in the Sanatarium.

His deep blue eyes opened at once, and Ezra immediately inquired with the presence once again.

"What is it?"

 _"Something that has been waiting for you for a long, long time. But be warned, the spirits of those who perished in this place were driven mad even before their demise. They cannot be reasoned with, and they will try to kill you. Harden your heart and steel your nerves, for you walk among the angry dead."_

* * *

Meanwhile, several star systems away in the Cademimu Sector of the Outer Rim, the Galactic Imperial Navy First Fleet was sitting idly in orbit over the industrial world of Cademimu V. The numerous formations of Star Destroyers, frigates, and patrol ships were all dwarfed by the imposing Super Star Destroyer that was the _Executor_ , the personal flagship of Darth Vader.

On the bridge of the massively imposing warship, the cybernetic Sith Lord stood looking out the forward viewports, his back to the officer who approached along the walkway behind him. The staff around and below them worked dilligently in silence, the stillness of the room broken only by Vader's ominous mechanical breathing.

"You summoned me, Lord Vader?" Admiral Firmus Piett inquired, bowing respecfully as he did so. The former Jedi replied without turning to face him.

"Yes. The Emperor has summoned me to perform a certain errand for him, and my shuttle should be ready for departure within the hour. I leave you in command of the fleet in my absence, admiral."

"I am honored, my lord."

"Once the refueling is complete I expect our forces to depart for Kothlis as previously planned. You know the Emperor wants to give the Rebellion a good show regarding their recent 'theft' of the new Death Star plans, and you will provide it in my stead."

"Yes, my lord. As the Emperor wills," Piett bowed in respect to his superior once more. A brief moment passed without a reply. Cautiously, the decorated Imperial officer inquired, "Is that all, my lord, or is there something else?"

"That is all for now. You are dismissed, admiral."

It wasn't long after Piett departed that Vader turned to leave himself. It had been some time since the Dark Lord had reason to pause, but this turn of events was most inconvenient for him, to put it mildly. Ever since their fateful clash at Bespin, Vader had only redoubled his efforts to find and subdue the younger Skywalker, his son. Now, Palpatine was taking him away from his quest to instead chase down some Force-sensitive cultists in Hutt Space. Needless to say, Darth Vader did not appreciate being sidetracked, especially in regards to something as important and admittedly personal as this. As far as he was concerned, this so-called 'Great Dragon Society' was a distraction and nothing more.

The cybernetic Sith Lord chose to stifle his concerns and focus on his new assignment for the time being. The sooner this was out of the way, the sooner he could return to his hunt for Skywalker. When he arrived at his personal hangar several levels below the bridge in the command tower of the _Executor_ , he found someone familiar waiting for him.

"It's good to see you again, master. Shall we depart and get this over with? Frankly, I've had enough of these deranged sycophants the Inquisition has been hunting for one lifetime."

"Grand Inquisitor Starkiller," there was just the faintest hint of pride in Vader's voice as he addressed his former pupil, "Indeed, let's get this over with."

* * *

Had Ezra known what lay ahead, he would have turned back right then and there. Before long he found himself in what might have been mistaken for a surgical center at first glance, but the between the restraints inside the numerous coffin-like tubes that stood on both sides of the large room and the eerie green light that provided scarce illumination, the young Jedi was convinced he found something straight out of a horror holo-film. The plethroa of syringes, wrench-like clamps, and various cutting tools on small tables beside each tube only served to reinforce that conclusion.

 _"Keep moving toward the exit. You need not trouble yourself with this chamber,"_ the presence chimed in.

The Lothalian looked over to the way out across the room and resumed walking, content to follow the advice he was given without question in this circumstance. However, when a familiar voice reached his ears in a panicked, pained scream, he immediately came back to a halt.

"Ezra! Help me!"

Whipping his head around, the young Jedi felt a chill sweep through him and his blood run cold. Two humanoid figures, obscured in encased in closed, long white coats were holding Sabine down, forcing her into the restraints inside one of the tubes.

"Sabine!" he cried out in unbridled horror and panic, immediately moving to aid her. It was then that another familiar voice called to him.

"Ezra! We need you!"

It was his master, Kanan Jarrus, the one he had been searching for the last several weeks in the same predicament at another tube a couple rows down.

"Kanan! Hold on, I'm coming!"

Ezra did not recognize who begged for his help next, but he instantly got the feeling that he should know. It was a small baby girl with tanned skin and dark blue hair much like his own, one eye a brillaint blue like his, and another a solid amber like that of his wife's eyes. One of the obscured figures slowly aimed a syringe at the young one's neck as another held it down against one of the small tables.

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" Ezra quickly drew his lightsaber, but found to his added horror that it would not ignite. After spedning a second fumbling with its switch, he instead drew one of the cutting tools to him via the Force. At that moment, another pair of the unknown beings shrouded in white abruptly grabbed him and started pushing him back with unnatural strength toward an open tube directly behind him. "NO! I won't let you do this!"

With fear and tears in his eyes, the cries of those depending on him in his ears, Ezra went to cut into the hand of one of his captors, gripped firmly around his right wrist. It was right then and there that the young Lothalian felt his eyes go wide. He sudedenly remembered, and he silently prayed his suspicions we correct.

"Ezra!" his wife screamed.

"Ezra!" his master pleaded.

The baby cried even louder.

"This isn't real! This can't be real! Go away! GO AWAY!"

All at once the visions vanished and the room erupted in a telekenetic blast of Force energy, the instruments and tools flying against the walls, several of the tubes coming loose, breaking off from their supports, and falling to the floor, and a couple of the green lights shattering instantaneously.

Ezra nearly fell to one knee as he heaved in and out, stuggling to catch his breath as cold sweat ran down the side of his face. When he looked down, he saw that the cutting tool he had grabbed was pressed against his wrist, at the blade. It hadn't broken through the skin, but it would have had he applied any further pressure.

" _You did well. A close call to be sure, but you did well,"_ the presence congratulated him, the masculine voice grim and earnest at the same time. The young Jedi took a moment to drop the small bladed tool, and to wipe his eyes.

"The mad spirits you mentioned..."

 _"Now that you've proven too strong for their mind games, expect them to try a more direct approach. Proceed on your guard."_

* * *

In stark contrast to the corroded metallic structure of the facility, the pair of tall double doors in front of Ezra were made entirely of stone, decorated along their frame with intricate runes and inscriptions in an ancient language the young Jedi couldn't recognize. Drawing on his experience in ancient locations so far, he reached out with both hands and slowly pried the withered doors apart through the Force. To his initial surprise, they seemed to resist him at least somewhat at first, but the task quickly became easier and they slid open freely before long.

Once inside, he took an immediate survey of his surroundings. The chamber was large and cylindrical in its layout, a perfect circle all the way around. Like the doors the entirety of the interior was comprised of stone carved in a similar array of more runes and inscriptions. This clearly predated the rest of the facility by a good while. A series of columns looped around forty five degrees from the wall, and in between those stood stepped daises with chromium steel chests atop each. A curious black rock formation stood from floor to ceiling in the very center of the chamber. As if on cue, the presence spoke up again.

 _"This was a vault, where the master of this terrible place once stored his most coveted treasures. However, all the relics that were once stored here have long since been removed, save one."_

Ezra's eyes soon set upon the only chest that was left unopened, on a dais to his right about a third of the way around the chamber. As if in a trance, heeding the call of the Force that beckoned him to it, the young Jedi approached, climbed the small set of stairs, and knelt before it. After staring at the lid and the controls on the magnetic lock for a long moment, he slowly pressed his right hand to it, intending to wipe off some of the thick coating of dust.

At once, the lid of the chest heaved out and open the abrupt motion creating a dust cloud that threw the young man into a brief coughing fit as he wiped away at it frantically with both hands. However, the faint glimmer of bronzium quickly caught his attention, and it was then he saw what had been calling to him.

It was a suit of shining armor fitted onto a set of hooded beige robes, all neatly folded and stacked together inside the chest. The armor itself consisted of shinguards, gauntlets, wristguards, and a fully-enclosing chestplate as well. The plating consisted of a durasteel-cortosis alloy coated in a bronzium finish to give it a certain elegant and unmistakable shine. However, it was the unmistakable origin of this ancient ensemble that sent Ezra reeling.

 _"The armor worn by Revan after his first return to the Light. I know you recognize it from your visions. Remarkable craftsmanship. It will hold up like new even now."_

"The chest just flew open when I pressed my hand on the locking mechanism. How-?" Ezra was obviously mystified at this sudden and drastic turn of events.

 _"The lock responded to your genetic signature. It was designed as such."_

"H-how is this even possible?" the Lothalian stuttered nervously, his eyes wide as the realization sunk in.

 _"So much time has passed. Just like the lightsaber clasped on your belt, you are the only one left this armor could've possibly called to."_

"No! How... what... I... I don't want it!" Ezra roared in defiance and fear, his voice cracking despite the absolution of his words. He grasped onto the chestplate with both hands, holding it down as if it were physically alive.

 _"You are his legacy, regardless of your feelings on the matter. But only the past is written, not the future."_

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!" the young Jedi was holding back tears, a barrage of conflicting emotions colliding within his very being.

 _"I was not defined by those who came before me, and you, Ezra Bridger, are no different. That said, Revan's bloodline and all that has been passed down with it live on inside of you. You will never reach your full potential if you deny yourself this truth any longer. Embrace your legacy, and you will have a power you've never known. However, whether that power will be Light or Dark remains for you to decide, alone."_

Ezra said nothing further. With teeth tightly clenched, the overwhelming events of the day finally took their toll, and so he merely clutched at the chestplate harder and let his tears fall.

 **A/N: So there you have it. Ezra's connection to Revan is real, and will play an important role in what is to come in this series. But more questions remain: who is this mysterious presence, what will Sabine do when she and Ezra reunite, and will Vader and Starkiller beat Ezra to the cult responsible for Kanan's disappearance?**

 **The answers will come, starting with Chapter 5 which will be out sometime next month.**

 **Edit: Chapter 5 is still coming along, but I recently decided to go back and add in that extra scene. It will provide more context for what is soon to come.**

 **Thanks again to all of you for reading. Be safe, be well. :)**


	5. Chapter 5: Stronger Together

Star Wars: Rebels: Truth in Legends

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: I know what you're all thinking, and yes, updates have been few and far between these days. But recently I have finalized the general plot for the remainder of this series, and for what it's worth I'm feeling a lot more confident about what I want to write here going forward. I wouldn't feel right publishing anything here just for the sake of it, I need to plan things out to make this as best it can be for all of you just as much as myself.**

 **I hope you folks understand.**

 **In any case, I believe I've kept you all wating long enough. On with the show!**

Chapter 5: Stronger Together

"HK, bring the _Starbird_ around for pick up. I'm done, here."

"Acknowledgement: As you say, master, though it will take a couple minutes to prep the engines."

"Understood, over and out."

After having recollected himself, Ezra made his way back to the main level of the Sanatarium, with the chest in tow, hovering on built-in repulsorlifts and tugged along behind him via the Force. The implications of what had been confirmed for him in the vault were still fresh in the young Jedi's mind, but as he unsealed and reopened the front doors to the decaying building, it immediately became apparent that any further pondering would have to wait.

Four individuals, Human judging by their appearance, stood before him just beyond the entryway outside. They were clad from head to toe in black robes and armor with gold linings, and their faces from the nose up were concealed in black, faceless masks with no visible eyeholes. Their garb looked worn and even ragged in some spots, caked in dust and dried blood. The four stood shoulder to shoulder, unmoving, unspoken.

Ezra had not sensed them, but his initial surprise at their presence was quickly abated. He didn't look back as he brought the chest to a halt behind him, and he cautiously reached for his lightsaber upon noticing each of his accosters had one of their own.

"Who are you? Your creepy silent act isn't going to intimidate me," his words were firm and final, but he still couldn't sense anything from the group. It was as if they didn't register in the Force at all, and Ezra mused to himself that given what he knew of this planet, perhaps they actually didn't.

All at once, the four drew and activated their single-hilt slightsabers, the blades all yellow in color. For his part, Ezra had mere seconds to activate his own before they were upon him with unnatural speed. He was able to Force push a couple of the group back, but the remaining two met him blade-to-blade, their movements unwavering, and disturbingly not quite life-like. Whereas a living person would be unable to bend their elbows and knees backwards, these indidivuals had no such limitations.

The young Jedi was able to cut through one after parrying their next attack, utilizing a horizontal slash to do it straight through their torso. The assailant howled in agony, letting out a disembodied scream as they fell to the ground. Then their form shifted to that of a blackened, shadowy silhouette, and they blew away like dust in the wind, lightsaber and all. Right then and there as he continued the duel against the remaining three, Ezra knew...

He was facing more ghosts of Nanthema's past.

The Lothalian leaped back to avoid two assailants as they jumped at him in a downward cut of their own blades, and then quickly ducked to avoid the third who had aimed right for his neck. A quick slice of his own and the latter fell into two pieces, bisected, wailing in their pain in a similar manner to their comrade as they too faded to black and then turned to dust.

Ezra gasped suddenly as he felt himself seized through the Force and held aloft up off the ground. One of the remaining two had reached out with their free hand to subdue him, and the other grasped the hilt of their lightsaber with both hands and charged forth. Quickly summoning all of his will and focus within the Force, Ezra managed to hurl his blade in a saber throw at the assailant levitating him, apparently surprising the duo as they had expected him to strike the one coming for him instead. The maneuever worked: the long-deceased individual quickly succumbed after losing their head.

The final assailant had managed to use the opening created by his partner to strike the Jedi, cutting into his cybernetic left arm and left leg. Had Ezra not leapt back again at the last possible nonosecond, he would likely have lost the entire arm again and the lightsaber would have likely cut into his ribcage and left lung as well. Still, the glancing blow was enough to force Ezra to the ground, and he let out a shout and a hiss of pain as he did so. He defiantly raised his lightsaber, but found he couldn't pull himself up; his cybernetic arm was too damaged.

Just as the ghostly assailant raised their own blade to strike down at his immobilized opponent, a single, small metal slug shot through their skull diagonally, in the back on the right side of their head and out the front on the left, cutting through their mask in the process. They dropped to their ground and their lightsaber disngaged, and quickly joined the rest of their group in seeming oblivion.

Letting out a deep sigh of relief, Ezra looked over in the direction the shot had come from. Complete surprise took over his features.

"Qashi?!"

"You're welcome, Jedi."

The Kaleesh mercenary slung his GaroTech D-58 projectile rifle back around his shoulder via the bantha hide strap, and stood up from his kneeling position a short distance away. Ezra disengaged his lightsaber and pulled himself back to his feet with his still-fully functioning organic left arm in the meantime.

"When did you get here, and... what is _that_?" the young Jedi inquired as he caught his breath, gesturing to a small wooden effigy lashed to the mercenary's belt. He could faintly sense the Light Side of the Force emenating from that otherwise unsuspecting carving.

"I arrived just minutes ago. As for this," Qashi motioned to the carving in question,"it's a warding totem, imbued by the shamans of my homeworld to help guard the bearer against dark energies. I figured it might come in handy for this not-so-charming locale," he elaborated, pausing for a moment to look the worn and injured Lothalian over, "Seems you've already had more than one run-in with whatever twisted power is at work, here," he deduced.

"Indeed. An interesting trick, but I can feel this place... gnawing away at my every thought. I doubt that totem will protect you indefinitely, no offense to your shamans," Ezra warned. The Kaleesh nodded.

"Agreed, which is why we should leave with all haste. You are the one I was sent here to find, and yes I will explain once we're safely away. I assume your ship is nearby?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. In fact, HK is bringing it around to pick me up as we speak."

"Good, then I'll return to mine. We'll meet back up in orbit. Someone from the Rebellion wishes to address you face-to-face," and with that, the Kaleesh mercenary turned to leave without further explanation. Ezra moved to call out to him, but was interrupted by the familiar roar of the _Starbird_ 's engines.

* * *

All the while, across the stars over in the Gazari System of the Outer Rim, the Rebel Fleet remained in idle forward on their sublight engines in deep space, far from any Imperial-controlled territories. A massive _Keldabe_ -class battleship had pulled up alongside _Home One_ , its hull adorned with the Mythosaur skull insignia variant of the True Mandalorians, as well as the bladed crest of Clan Flong. This imposing warship was the _Revenant of Galidraan_ , the personal flagship of Mand'alor the Vindicator, and was decorated in the symbols of his faction and clan accordingly.

While the Mandalorian leader was in a closed door meeting with Minister Mon Mothma, Rear Admiral Thaneespi, and Commander Wedge Antilles, Admiral Gial Ackbar went to the breifing room to meet once more with the esteemed supreme commander of the CIS Remnant, Admiral Ralon Zalvieniad. The Mon Calamari naval officer found his Arkanian counterpart in the room alone, analyzing something on the console in front of the holoprojector.

"Ahem," the Rebel leader cleared his throat to get the Separatist's attention.

"Ah, hello again, Ackbar," Zalvieniad greeted, "I was reviewing the finalized version of the battle plan," the CIS veteran focused his cybernetic left eye on the unfamilair face Ackbar had brought with him, "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met. Who might you be?"

"Arvel Crynyd, Green Squadron Leader, sir," the human male in a green variant of the familiar Rebel flightsuit answered promptly.

"Commander Crynyd will be leading the starfighter corps in this battle. His squadron's A-Wings will prove vital against the TIE Defenders that Thrawn will innevitably unleash on our forces," Ackbar explained, "I thought it only proper you two meet, since the majority of your Vulture Droid and Tri-Droid squadrons will be under his direct command for the duration of the battle."

"Yes, of course. Well met, commander," Zalvieniad extended his arm for a cordial handshake, which Arvel returned. "Make good use of my fighters."

"I give you my word, admiral," the sqadron leader affirmed.

"Alright, now that that's out of the way, please excuse us for a few minutes, commander," the Mon Cal instructed, to which Arvel saluted and promptly exited.

A few seconds of silence passed.

"Something troubles you," the Arkanian observed once the door closed. Ackbar let out a frustrated sigh before affirming to the former.

"Mand'alor is returning to his home space. One of the deck officers just informed me that he told Minister Mothma and the others the Imperials have launched another offensive into Mandalorian territory. The entire 19th, 22nd, and 29th fleets of the Imperial Navy along with all of their mutual ground units have been dispatched on orders from Emperor Palpatine, to subdue or eradicate the Mandalorian Clans for good."

"That's a tall order, even for the likes of the Empire. This makes the third time such an attempt has been made, yes?"

"Nevertheless, Mand'alor has recalled all of his ships from the operation, which is still set to begin in three days. He's understandably pulling back his offensive forces to reinforce his defenses, but this leaves us with a crucial shortage on ships, manpower, and firepower. The Minister therefore humbly requests..." Ackbar pasued for a moment, unable to stifle his hesitation, "Sorry, she humbly requests that all available ships of your own fleet be brought up to supplement this. All but a handful of Rebel vessels will now be participating in the battle as well. The _Millennium Falcon_ will be absent from the battle as well, as both the vessel and its crew have gone to assist Princess Organa on an undercover mission to the Core Worlds."

"I see. Well, you can tell Minister Mothma that with the sole exception of our land-based defensive fighters and corvettes, the entire armada I have amassed since the Clone Wars will be at her disposal," Zalvieniad nodded as he spoke in affirmation.

"I see... thank you, admiral. I will let her know once her meeting is adjourned," and with that, the Mon Cal admiral turned to leave, but was stopped half-way by another observation, one that hit the nail on the head.

"You know, if we're to share joint-command of this operation, I think we should at least try to be honest with each other, admiral. There's something you're not telling me."

Briefly flashing a look of annoyance, Ackbar sighed again before turning back to face his would-be co-commander.

"If you want the truth, fine. As men of high rank and status, we're supposed to put our personal feelings aside for the sake of our duty. I know that, and I know you know that."

"But...?" Zalvieniad inquired, the brow over his remaining organic right eye arched as he did so.

"There's a part of me, a nagging voice inside my head that can't help but wonder if and how many of your forces were present for the siege of my home planet during the Clone Wars. How many of your droids' blasters and your ships' guns were used on my people, simply because we chose to remain loyal to the Republic? Truth be told, I'm wondering if Minister Mothma and Princess Organa have been placing too much faith in the same people who fought to destroy the very system of government our Rebellion is fighting to restore."

A few moments of silence passed between the two men, two former opponents-turned allies out of pure circumstance.

"Truthfully, I always suspected," the Arkanian admiral admitted, finally breaking the silence. "I know there are many in your ranks who question our alliance, as do quite a few in my own."

"If we're to work together, we do need to be honest with each other. You're right about that. But, we also need to be able to trust one another, and I'm not sure that's possible," the Mon Calamari admiral demurred, lamenting the situation.

"Trust is something not easily obtained, or recovered. That said, perhaps you don't need to trust _me_ , but rather the trust in the reason that brought me to seek an alliance with the Rebellion in the first place."

Ackbar didn't know what he had expected Zalvieniad to say, but it certainly hadn't been that.

"And what exactly is that 'reason?'"

"Contrary to what those in power in the final years of the Galactic Republic told their denizens, there were indeed a great many individuals who chose to join the Separatists not for personal gain, but to serve a cause they believed in wholeheartedly, to fight for freedom from the corrupt, self-serving senators in the Galactic Senate, and a so-called Supreme Chancellor obsessed with obtaining more power for himself. I was one of them. We were younger, idealistic, and dedicated our lives to the cause of freedom," Zalvieniad paused for a moment, his gaze briefly downcast as he remembered days long gone, "In the end, however, the Jedi were not the only ones deceived and betrayed by Palpatine. As you know, when the dust finally settled I was the highest-ranking member of the Confederacy left alive. With Count Dooku, General Grievous, and the Separatist Council all gone, the task of preserving what remained of our forces fell to me."

"There were many holdouts, and most didn't last longer than a couple of years," the Rebel naval officer recalled, "I understand you eventually rallied all the survivors and reunited them under your leadership. But why, other than mere survival? The Republic had been defeated from within."

"Yes, the Republic is gone, but the Empire is run by the very worst of its corrupt elitists and extremists, Palpatine, or 'Lord Sidious' as we knew him chief among them. The way I see it, my fight is not yet over, and the cause I signed up to serve all those years ago remains. I will continue to fight for the freedom of all who need it until either I stand in victory, or I lay dead and buried, whichever comes first," the veteran CIS naval officer declared, earnest and resolute.

Ackbar thought about the implications carefully before inquiring further.

"So say we do in fact win this war, and Palpatine and his sychophants are finally defeated. What then?"

"I cannot say, a lot remains to be determined. But know this, so long as our cause remains the same, so long as the threat of the Empire remains, the Rebellion can depend on what remains of the Confederacy of Indepdendent Systems to see this war through to the end, regardless of how it turns out. Just trust in that much, admiral, and that will be all we need."

The silence from before returned, and remained for a good while.

* * *

It was just beyond the reach of Nanthema's outer orbit that the _Starbird_ came alongside the _Invoshra Ingmal_ , Qashi's personal starship. The vessel's name meant "War Cry of the Elite" in the Kaleesh language. It was a heavily-modified _Nemesis_ -class patrol ship, decorated in some of the intricate warpaint designs of the Kaleesh warrior heritage.

Once the docking clamps were secure on both vessels, Ezra and HK came aboard, and Qashi instructed the duo to follow him to the crew lounge.

"Who is this person from the Rebellion you brought along with you?" Ezra inquired somewhat skeptically. "Seems like it would be simpler to communicate via a secured holofrequency."

"Commentary: Do not waste your time trying to understand your fellow meatbags, master. I've been around for thousands of years and the lot of you still confound me with your mannerisms to no end."

Ignoring the droid's off-handed jibe, Qashi replied, "Simpler, yes, but this one is quite familiar with you, and as I said before she prefers to have words with you face-to-face."

"'She?'" Ezra arched a brow as they arrived at a closed door at the end of the hallway from the cockpit.

Qashi said nothing further, and merely activated the controls to the door. It flew open instantaneously, and it was indeed a familiar person waiting for the young Jedi on the other side.

"Ezra Bridger!"

"Sabine?!"

"Prompt Statement: I shall wait for you back on the ship, master. Cautionary Addendum: I am of course being optimistic and assuming I see you again intact after this."

As the ancient assassin droid immediately turned to leave, the Mandalorian rose from her seat and stomped over towards her husband. Ezra reflexively looked back over his shoulder, only to find the Kaleesh mercenary barring the way they had come. It was just a second later that Ezra felt his wife's hand grab a fistful of his shirt collar and yank him inside the room. The door closed behind him, a flaint glimmer of alarm in Qashi's own eyes at the last moment. The son of Qymaean was silently grateful he needn't get involved further.

"Sabine, I know you're angry, but please let me explain..." Ezra began frantically, but was quickly cut off.

"Explain, what, Ezra? That you lied to me? That you went galavanting off to what's probably the most dangerous place in the Galaxy that I now know exists? That you clearly got yourself injured without telling anyone where you were kriffing going in the first place?!" Sabine all but screamed at her husband, briefly eyeing his damaged cybernetic left arm as she did so. The Lothalian couldn't help but flinch slightly at her tone, her eyes fierce and her expression indignant, to say the least.

"I didn't lie to you..." he tried meekly, to no avail.

"Omission is a lie by technicality, Ezra," was her stern reply, "You know that. I may have married a fool, but I didn't marry an idiot."

Ezra let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging and his head fell in submission, and shame. He knew she was right. He didn't regret his decision to journey to Nanthema, but guilt still ate away at him. He never liked hurting her.

"I'm sorry, Sabine. I know it was wrong not to tell you where I was going, and it was wrong for me to come here without backup from anyone except for HK. I just... I just _had_ to know..."

"We've already had this discussion, Ezra," Sabine reminded him chidingly. "Tell me something: why do you think you need to do all of this crap alone? Don't you now that you're not the only one who misses Kanan? I've wept for him too, Ezra. You know I have. And Hera, how many nights has she cried herself to sleep because Dawn asked her where her father was?" the young Mandalorian's voice strained slightly, sorrow and exasperation taking over her features. Ezra raised his head slowly, his own expression saddened further at hearing her tone shift.

"Of course I know I'm not alone in this, Sabine, I just-"

"Then please, Ezra, please, please, please, _please_ for the love of the Manda, the Force, and all else stop acting like you are!"

"Sabine..."

"We are husband and wife, and we were already a team for years before that. So get one simple fact through your thick skull: you don't do _anything_ like this without me. Where _you_ go, _I_ go. Who _you_ fight, _I_ fight. We will live _and_ die _together_. We are one _together_ , Ezra. The vows we both took pledge that."

"I know, I know. You're right, Sabine. I was wrong, and I'm _so_ sorry, and I-" he was interrupted from his rambling apology when she took another fistful of his collar and pulled him to her, slamming her lips to his own. His eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly kissed her back. He felt a slight dampness on his cheeks and realized she had been holding back tears. He wrapped his arms around her torso, holding her close and her own did the same around his shoulders.

"Just... just shut up and hold me, you lovable fool," she breathed out when they separated for air, smiling up at him in relief. He smiled back and nodded slightly before kissing her again. She reciprocated gladly.

 **A/N: Chapter 6: Where the Skies Burn Red is already in progress, and I expect it to be ready in about 3-4 weeks. I hope everyone of you have a wonderful holiday season, and good tidings in the year ahead. Thanks again to my beta reader, WikkedGrin, and to all of you who continue to support this series.**

 **PS: I also tossed in a couple more references to the OT and Expanded Universe in this chapter. Feel free to point them out if you think you know them in the reviews. :)**

 **Update: Unfortunately my writing computer recently died, and I've had to transfer all my saved data onto a new one that took some time to arrive. Thankfully, I've long backed up all of my writing onto an external storage drive. The next chapter will come, but it's been delayed far longer than I could've anticipated and for that I apologize.**


	6. Chapter 6: Tomorrow is Another Day

Star Wars: Rebels: Truth in Legends

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: So, fair warning, this chapter gets a bit... heated, at the start, but nothing to surpass the T rating. Some Sabezra citrus as recompense for the long wait. Yes, this new chapter has been a long time coming, but it's here at last. Between losing my old writing computer and adjusting to a new schedule at work, I confess I've overextended myself with unrealistic expectations as of late, but enough about me. I do hope those of you who are stuck at home are doing well in these uncertain times. Now, enjoy!**

Chapter 6: Tomorrow is Another Day

Travel through hyperspace from the Chorlian Sector to the Y'Toub System in Hutt Space took about two standard days with most hyperdrives, including the one fitted aboard the _Starbird_. While the Mandalorian-built _Kom'rk_ -class fighter/transport had undergone an interior refit and recieved a new paint job since falling into the hands of Rebellion, most of its systems remained the same as they had been before its acquisition.

Ezra emerged from the refresher, toweling the last remnants of his shower off from his hair and back as he did so. He was clad only in a loose pair of sleeping pants. As he opened his eyes and went to reach for his shirt which lay folded neatly atop the bed, he found that he was alone in the ship's main quarters. His mind immediately went elsewhere, and the young Jedi left the room as he was. It wasn't long before he found his wife in the small lounge just behind the cockpit.

Her back was to him, her focus on her current painting project which encompassed much of the wall behind the deep orange couch that formed a half circle around the dejarik table. Both had been acquired from a junked Corellian light freighter. She stood on her knees atop the couch, clad in her light purple bath robe. It was evident she had returned to painting fresh from her own shower not long ago.

He couldn't help but take a moment to admire the sight before him. From the first moment he had layed eyes upon her, Ezra Bridger had been a firm believer that Sabine Wren was without exageration the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his young life, and the years they spent together had done nothing to diminish that view. They had been intimate more than once and were now married, so there wasn't any mystery of the flesh left between them, and the Lothalian remained steadfast in his belief that there wasn't any finer speciman of woman than the Mandalorian with whom he now shared his life. The way her dyed dark purple hair softly caressed the back of her neck and the sides of her face, her tan skin, the way her robe hugged her curves thanks to the fastened belt wrapped snug at her waist just above her firm hips, and of course her generous posterior and slender legs. There wasn't a centimeter of her body that he didn't cherish, but above all else, it was her heart and soul that had come to captivate him so.

Just how had he gotten so lucky? What had he done to deserve her? A pang of regret tugged at his chest as he recalled their tense reunion earlier that day.

The daughter of Clan Wren squeaked in spite of herself when she felt Ezra's strong arms slowly wrap around her waist, but relaxed less than a second later when she felt his chin rest confortably on her right shoulder.

"You know, most consider it foolish to sneak up on a Mandalorian, oh husband of mine," she teased, looking over her shoulder at him while she laced the fingers on her left hand with his cybernetic ones.

"I'm sorry," he breathed against her neck, "you're just so beautiful, cyri'ka," he pressed a kiss to her exposed skin, "Forgive me."

Her brief sense of pride in his spot-on pronounciation in her native langauge was drowed out as Sabine quickly felt her face heat up in response to his words and actions, and she also felt a certain warmpth beginning to form in her lower regions as well. She let out a soft moan when she felt him nip at her ear and kiss her neck some more, and set down her painting tool to reach back and caress his face while keeping their fingers laced in her other hand. She felt her arousal building between her legs, and felt his too pressing against her bum.

"Ezra..." she moaned.

"Yes, Sabine?" he paused to ask her, huskily.

Almost instantaneously, the young Mandalorian pushed the young Jedi back and maneuvered herself around, her amber eyes darkening with passion. Ezra almost forgot to breathe for a moment when his deep blue eyes caught her gaze, but he quickly regained his focus and they mirrored her look not a moment later. She pushed him back, her stare and movements almost hypnotic. Their eyes were firmly locked on eachother.

Sabine climbed over and straddled him, and she knew without a doubt what was to come would be Ezra's favorite activity using the dejarik table.

* * *

Back inside the secret base concealed behind Meridian Hall in the industrial sector on Nar Shaddaa, Antiochus stepped inside a dimly-lit meditation chamber, the faint traces of deep red light provided only by a pair of small Sith Obelisks. The cult master stood in silence as the door closed behind him, carefully gauging the cloaked dark lord who sat cross-legged on a red cushion with their back to him. The power of the Dark Side radiated strongly in the small room. After about a minute or so, Darth Novos finally spoke up, not moving in the slightest from his meditation.

"They are coming, and will be here soon."

Antiochus wasted no time inquiring further.

"You mean Bridger and Wren, my lord?"

"Yes, the two of them, as well as Vader and the new Grand Inquisitor," the Sith Lord who inherited the mask of Darth Nihilus elaborated simply. The former, however, did not keep quite so calm at the revelation.

"Wait, _Vader_? The plan called for only the wannabe Jedi and the failed bounty hunter!" Antiochus raised his voice sharply, his tone exasperated, frustrated, and perhaps just a bit... fearful.

"You're an even greater fool than I thought if you believed the false empire would not respond to your handiwork on Ryloth," Novos retorted sharply, in no mood to mince words with the Society's leader.

"So..." Antiochus snarled in spite of himself, his irritation surpassing his fear of the dark lord for the moment, "what now?"

" _Now_ , we do nothing. Our enemies come to us, and we need only await their arrival," Novos explained resolutely, ignoring the cult leader's dispostion, "The original plan remains, it's just been expanded to include two more. You will confront the Jedi and the Mandalorian. Vader and his chosen are mine, as I am presently the only one on this moon capable of facing either of them. I will also be taking the majority of the Adherrents, but you're free to use the remainder of your resources against your targets should you so desire."

"I will not require backup to deal with a fraud and a flunky," the Grand Master of the Great Dragon Society replied, disgust in his voice as his thoughts shifted to the young Jedi and Mandalorian.

"Be warned," Novos interjected, still not turning to face the other man, "As I've told you before, I have faced Bridger and Wren myself on more than one occaision in the past. You underestimate them at your own peril."

"As you say, my lord," Antiochus acknowledged the warning unethusiastically, "Care to elaborate on your history with those two?"

"No, I don't," was all the masked Sith Lord said in reply. "You are dismissed. Make your final preparations, for the moment of reckoning fast approaches."

"Very well, then."

And with that, the Society's leader turned and departed, leaving the dark lord to continue his meditation in renewed silence.

* * *

Some time later the following day, back on board the _Starbird_ and inside the cargo hold, Ezra had knelt down before the ancient chest he had brought back with him from the vault beneath the Sanitarium. The lid was unlatched and open once more, and the young Jedi held the bronzium-plated mask of Revan securely in his grip. His deep blue eyes scanned it intently, his brows furrowed and his mind deep in thought. Even still, he did not miss the footsteps of his wife as she approached from behind. He caught her reflection in the mask's lense; her expression was one of sympathy.

"A part of me still doesn't want to believe it," he stated simply, "But from the moment I first laid eyes on this dusty old gear I'd never seen before in my life, I couldn't help but feel as if... it _should_ be familiar to me..."

"Well, if it helps, I'm not having much luck processing this revelation myself, Ezra," she sighed, coming to kneel down beside him on his left, "A lot of my people had come to regard Revan as a myth, some spooky story parents used to scare their children into behaving. Clans Viszla and Kryze in particular completely wrote him off as some 'Jedi propaganda,'" she snorted, pausing for a moment before musing further, "But Clans Flong, Ordo, Kelborn, and Fett always told the stories as though they were historical record. Seems they were right."

"Sabine..." Ezra turned to look her in the eyes. The shifting tone of his voice betrayed his worry. She met his gaze intently, waiting patiently for him to continue. "I may dread the answer, but I have to know: does this change anything regarding our marriage in the eyes of your family and the rest of the clans? Or... with _you_?"

The young Mandalorian promptly rolled her eyes and leaned in for a quick peck on his lips.

"It became quite apparent to me early on that you were something _different_ , Ezra," she told him with a grin as she pulled back, "A _good_ different, as I learned later on. I fell in love with _you_ , and you alone. Your ancestry doesn't change how I feel. You could be related to the Emperor for all I care, and you'd still be the same cheeky Lothrat we picked up off the streets years ago, and the same brilliant Jedi and wonderful man who became my life-mate, forevermore," she smiled at him warmly as she finished, her amber eyes glimmering as they remained locked on his.

The young Jedi couldn't resist returning her kiss at that moment. She reached up and wiped away the faint traces of happy tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes with her thumbs.

"Thank you, Sabine. I'd be lost without you," he chuckled slightly, and her adoring smile returned.

"And as for my family and the other clans, I made it clear their perception of you means little to me, and that hasn't changed. Though, I honestly don't think my parents, my brother, or Mand'alor will change their opinions of you, regardless of the news."

"Yeah, Mand'alor in particular was pretty adamant of my lineage once he got a good look at this lightsaber," Ezra recalled as he gestured to the ancient hilt clasped on his right hip.

"Which reminds me," Sabine interjected, "we should contact him for further information on our destination once we drop out of hyperspace, though I think _you_ should be the one to call this time," she teased.

Before Ezra could inquire on that suggestion, a familiar set of mechanical footsteps drew their attention to the open doorway behind them.

"Statement: Pardon the intrusion, master, but the navicomputer has indicated we have just entered the Yout'b System. It is estimated that we will arrive at Nar Shaddaa in approximately six hours, twenty two minutes, and forty six seconds."

"Thank you, HK," the Lothalian nodded at the ancient assassin droid. "Is there anything else?"

"Answer: The power regulators on the sublight drives are operating at optimal capacity once again," the mechanized killer replied as-a-matter-of-fact, much to the puzzlement of the two organics.

"There was a problem with the sublight engines?" Ezra arched a brow.

"And you didn't tell us, because...?" Sabine eyed the droid quizzically.

"Answer: When the ship's diagnostic systems alerted me to the problem, the two of you had been presently interfacing, and I did not believe it prudent to-"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," the young Jedi waved his hands frantically as he quickly interrupted, "We don't need to hear any more!" His face and that of the young Mandalorian had both turned wide-eyed and colored a deep shade of crimson.

"Suggestion: Master, if you wish to maintain some discretion in regards to when you, as some meatbags say, 'charge up her loading ramp,' then I recommend you install adequate sound-dampening tech on the walls in your quarters."

A flustered and annoyed Sabine eyed Ezra quizzically, to which he quickly amended, "I _swear_ , I've never used that phrase!"

* * *

Once the _Starbird_ dropped out of hyperspace within sight of the infamous Smuggler's Moon, Ezra quickly set about hailing Mand'alor over the holocommunicator, not wishing to waste any more time. As he did so, however, he couldn't help but look out beyond the ecumenopolis to the planet that it orbited.

Evocar looked exactly as it did the last time he had laid eyes upon it. Lush green landscapes broken up by sparkling light blue seas, all behind a sky of pure white clouds. Its appearance remained a stark contrast to the bloated, gaseous swamp world it had been a mere five years ago, during the final battle with Grand Inquisitor Nachtgeist on the _Infinite Reformer_. A brief chill swept through Ezra at the memory. It had without doubt been the single most harrowing ordeal of his life to date. Still, as he looked upon the beautiful world in the distance, he couldn't help but silently muse to himself that at least something good _had_ come of the malevolent dark sider utilizing that giant leftover piece of Rakata technology.

"Bridger, why am I not surprised?" the voice of Mand'alor the Vindicator pulled him from his thoughts, and he shifted his gaze to the hologram that had just appeared between himself and his wife, the latter of who had quickly taken notice of the background noise coming over the holocall's audio.

"What's going on, sir?" Sabine inquired with the ruler of her people respectfully.

"This isn't exactly the most ideal time for a chat," the last survivor of the original True Mandalorians explained, "The bulk of our armed forces here at the capital are shipping out as we speak, and I will be departing aboard my ship within the hour. But I take it this isn't a social call. No, the two of you need something from me again, right?"

"We need some information on Nar Shaddaa, if you have the time," Ezra affirmed the older man's suspicions.

"I really _don't_ have the time, but since I know you won't leave me alone otherwise," Mand'alor sighed and paused for a moment, then looked over his shoulder and called out to someone off-camera. "Kevas! Bring me our last intel report on Nar Shaddaa, and get Alrich over here, double time!"

"Yes sir!" came the reply, faint over the holocall.

"Mand'alor, sir!" Shysa interrupted as he stepped into view, his own hologram forming alongside that of the the leader, "Lady Kryze just provided us with an update from the front!"

"See that it's transmitted to all command staff. I'll look over it myself once we depart."

"At once!" and with that Mand'alor's second-in-command stepped back out of view.

"Wait, 'the front?'" Sabine quieried, her brows creasing in worry in spite of herself, "And my father is there with you? What's going on?"

When the Mandalorian ruler turned to face them again, the young Jedi and Mandalorian could both tell he was looking at them with tired eyes, despite the fact that his face remained hidden inside his helmet.

"Palpatine seems quite determined to bring us under his heel, and this time he's not using subterfuge or making deals with traitors in our ranks. As of our last intel report on the situation, the entire Fifth, Nineteenth, and Twenty Second Fleets of the Imperial Navy have crossed our borders and launched an all-out offensive into our territories. So far no worlds have been lost, but five systems are currently under siege, the most recent of those being Dalzaran. Our forces there relayed the news around eight hours ago."

"Dalzaran?!" Sabine was immediately alarmed, "That system borders Krownest!"

"Never fear, my daughter," the patriarch of Clan Wren interjected as he stepped into view, his hologram forming alongside that of Mand'alor, "Ursa, Tristan, and the others have already finished preparations. The bulk of our clan left to link up with the defenders on Dalzaran One in preparations for a counterassault."

"Father!" the daughter of Clan Wren sighed in relief, releasing a breath she hadn't known she was holding in. Ezra's own expression softened at her actions, and a smile smile formed on his lips.

"Alrich was summoned here at my discretion to serve as a cultural advisor for an art exhibition planned here at the capital," Mand'alor explained, "That's now on hold indefinitely, of course. He arrived not long after you called inquiring on the whereabouts of your life-mate, young Wren."

The Lothalian's eyes went wide and his smile vanished instantaneously.

"Wait, _you_ _'re_ the one who ratted me out?!" Ezra was both outraged and flustered at the revelation. He briefly glanced over at Sabine, who merely regarded him with a knowing and proud grin.

"She was clever, Manda'vod. She exploited my complete lack of care or concern for what you were doing," the aged warrior leader drolled in retort. Alrich merely chuckled and shook his head beside him. At that moment, the younger warrior of Clan Bralor returned, and promptly handed a datapad to Mand'alor, who nodded as he took it. Kevas stood at attention and saluted before departing to return to other duties without a word. "I'll transmit the contents of this report on Nar Shaddaa to your ship. Once that's done we'll have to keep comm silence for awhile, I'm sure you both understand."

"Thank you, Mand'alor," Sabine bowed respectfully.

"We have things well in hand, Sabine," Alrich reassured his daughter, "I look forward to seeing you again, soon. And you as well, son-in-law," he winked at Ezra with a grin as he finished.

"Oh, yes, thank you, sir," Ezra nodded.

"Actually," Mand'alor interrupted as he peered through the datapad's contents, "There _is_ one thing the two of you can do to help out our defense, and aid your Rebellion at the same time."

"Name it," Sabine acquiesed.

"There is a unit of Imperial Storm Commandos on Nar Shaddaa scheduled to ship out in two days' time, to link up with the Imperial Army forces being deployed from the Fifth Fleet. Apparently they are being led by some ISB agent called Gideon. The facility they're currently holed up in is near the old Promenade in the entertainment sector on the moon. A handful of Rebel prisoners are being held there, including a one CT-4767, aka Captain Rex."

The young couple felt their eyes go wide at the name drop. It had been too long since they last heard anything of the old clone.

"Captain Rex is still alive?" Ezra was the first to find their voice again, "He's been listed as MIA since the evacuation of Massassi Base!"

"I assume this intel was passed on to Rebel command," Sabine quickly reasoned, "Why weren't we told of this earlier?"

"There are thousands of Rebels who have been taken prisoner across the Galaxy," Mand'alor reasoned, "Rebel command doesn't have the resources to stage rescue attempts for all of them. We Mandalorians were planning a few raids on facilities like this one, but we've had to put those plans on hold given the current sitation."

"We'll do everything we can to free Rex and the other prisoners, and put those Imperial commandos on ice," the Lothalian assured the Mandalorian leader, who nodded in acknlowedgement.

"That's good to hear, Manda'vod. That old man is one the few remaining clones of Jango Fett, my predecessor and the finest Mand'alor I ever knew. His legacy deserves better than to waste away in an Imperial prison cell."

* * *

About half an hour later, the _Starbird_ had come to rest on a landing pad at a privately-owned public spaceport close to the old Promenade. The idea was to use the incoming and outgoing civilian and commercial traffic to mask their arrival as much as possible. Down in the entry bay, Ezra, Sabine, and HK-47 immediately set about locking and loading all the equipment neccessary for storming an Imperial SpecOps outpost, and a cult of dangerous Force-sensitives on top of that.

"Statement: I calculate a 99.8% probability that I will be enjoying myself very much very soon, master," the ancient assassin droid remarked, amusement and giddiness in his tone as he clicked an ammo clip into place on his blaster carbine.

"And the .2%?" Ezra inquired flatly while buckling his utility belt. All the while, Sabine stocked up on some extra thermite charges.

"Answer: I factored in 00.2% chance that you would successfully employ the disappointing and self-destructive Jedi notion of pacifism and ruin everyone's good time. Addendum: I know that such calculations may be pessimism on my part, master."

The young Jedi couldn't help but roll his eyes in response.

Suddenly, the alert on the holocommunicator sounded and was transmitted throughout the ship. Both Ezra and Sabine returned to the cockpit, the former waiting as the latter took the initiative to see who was calling.

"It's an encrypted frequency, from the Rebel Fleet," the Mandalorian quickly deduced.

"That figures," the Jedi couldn't help but sigh, "Better put it through."

Neither of them expected the familiar face that had sought them out, and the couple each had to stifle a surprised gasp. It was Sabine who found her voice first, this time.

"Hera!"

"I... uh, it's good to see you," Ezra greeted their surrogate mother a bit awkwardly. It had been awhile since he'd last spoken to her. The veteran Twi'lek pilot-turned Rebel general and single mother put on a soft smile for her two eldest children.

"I'm glad I caught the two of you before you left. Mand'alor sent a transmission informing command of your status. I was afraid I would be too late."

"What can we do for you, Hera?" Ezra inquried earnestly. His irritation at being interrupted was gone; his expression was now one of concern. Sabine held a similar expression.

"Listen..." Hera began, her eyes briefly darting back and forth between the two of them, "I know the two of you went to Nar Shaddaa to confront the cult that ambushed us on Ryloth. I just want you both to know, I _wish_ I could be there with you. I have a personal stake in the outcome of this, same as the both of you."

"No," Sabine interrupted, drawing the focus of the other two to her, "It's not the _'same_ ' as us, Hera. This is even _more_ personal for you than it is for Ezra and I. I'm... I'm sorry we haven't been keeping you in the loop about what's been going on the last couple of weeks."

"Please don't feel bad about it," the Twi'lek interjected, "My duties with the fleet, and with Dawn have kept me occupied. I couldn't have accompanied the two of you on this mission, anyway."

"Sabine is right, though," Ezra chimed in, "Finding Kanan, whatever happened to him or wherever he is now, this is more important to you than it is for us."

"He was your teacher, Ezra," Hera stated, her tone soft and sympathetic.

"And he's your husband, and the father of your child," the young Jedi retortly resolutely, "And Dawn is a smart, gifted little girl who deserves to have her father back in her life as well. What Sabine and I do here, it's for the both of you as well."

The Rebel general blinked rapidly and wiped her eyes in response to the heartfelt declaration, and the young Mandalorian's own eyes shone with pride and adoration as she looked at her husband from beside him.

"Thank you, Ezra," Hera said in gratitude after taking a breath and collecting herself. "You too, Sabine. I look forward to seeing the two of you again."

"We'll be back soon, Hera, promise," Sabine told her with a nod, which she returned. And with that the holocall ceased, and the daughter of Clan Wren promptly kissed her favorite Jedi on the cheek, briefly startling him, "How do you always know just what to say?" she asked him with a contented sigh as he met her gaze.

"I just speak from the heart, cyri'ka," he told her with a grin, to which she snorted and shook her head, a smile forming on her lips.

"Cheesy, but it works for you."

 **A/N: And there you have it! Chapters 7 and 8 will be released side-by-side as a two-part special like in previous stories for this series, so keep an eye out for those. That said, my Teen Titans story will be updated first, so expect that new chapter to come before the end of the week. Once again a most sincere thank you to all of you as well as my beta reader, WikkedGrin. Until the next time and as always, safe journeys to all! :)**

 **Update: Work on Chapters 7 and 8 is coming along. Both should be ready sometime early in July.**


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